


all things soft and beautiful and bright.

by honeyglazed



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Trojan War Setting (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Angst, Eventual Smut, Hero Bokuto Koutarou, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Song of Achilles, M/M, Romance, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, War, when they're adults ofc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyglazed/pseuds/honeyglazed
Summary: Stripped of his name, his birthright, his family, and his home, Keiji is exiled to the kingdom of Fukurodani.There he meets a swift footed prince with eyes of gold and the blood of both god and mortal inside him. His name is Bokuto Koutarou, and he's destined to be one of the greatest warriors the world has ever seen.Despite Keiji's disgrace, Bokuto takes him as a companion. Though neither the Fates nor the Gods work in their favor, together they grow through times of peace, love, and war.(heavily inspired by the masterpiece that is the song of achilles by madeline miller)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	1. exile.

The King and Queen of the small Alynthi kingdom did not love each other like husband and wife should. He was a vile man with a blackened heart and dreams of conquest. She was just a child, only fifteen summers old, but her beauty--hair smooth and luminous as a raven’s coat, eyes deep as the ocean, and skin perfect like fresh milk--was fabled. The King, at first, desired no girl but her, and her father desired the riches he would receive in return.

Akaashi Fumiko became an Ito in the grandest celebration her small farming village had ever seen. She met her soon to be husband at the altar and disliked his eyes from the first sight. They were dark and evil. Though her mother warned her earlier that her life would be easier if she tried to love her husband, she decided in that moment that she did not desire to. She wanted to show this man no affection and required none from him.

The King had her done away with the day she bore him a son. 

He held the squirming and crying baby up to the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. His hair was black like hers, his eyes the same shade. He disliked that, but at least he was male. Either way, with his wife bleeding from her throat and between her legs, he did not have much of a choice but to accept what he was given. The King had no plans to love the child he named Keiji, all he needed was a strong warrior to take the throne and continue his legacy.

Six summers later, he was disappointed.

Fumiko’s genetics were strong. Keiji inherited her bird-like limbs and knobby knees that wobbled when a sword too heavy was placed in his hands. He was tall for his age but his shoulders were narrow. It was not a body built for war, and the King cared too little to shape it into one. He resorted to handing Keiji off to the staff apart from times he needed him, scowling whenever he saw him like the sight of his own son disgusted him. 

♕

When Keiji turned seven, Alynthi was chosen to host the Games. Men of all shapes and sizes came from kingdoms far as Aobajousai or Nekoma. The King was determined to have the best games seen in decades, working the servants and slaves until their bodies no longer could. Keiji would have chosen to be with them if given the choice, but it was his turn to play the perfect son. He was watching the Games begin from his father’s side, averting his eyes during the sacrifice of the bull to the gods.

In his hands was a wreath of green leaves, the prize for the winner of the young boys running. It was the only event Keiji was interested in. The boys at the starting line were everything he was not. Strong despite their ages, skin tanned to a beautiful honeyed tint after hours of work in the sun. They were all glorious, stretching out their defined muscles, but Keiji’s attention was drawn to the boy in the middle specifically. 

Shorter than the others because he was evidently younger, perhaps having the same amount of summers as Keiji, give or take one. His hair, colored oddly as shades of both black and white, was pushed back by a golden band. The mark of a prince. 

The race began and as if Hermes put wind beneath his feet, he rushed past every boy, reaching the finish line with time to spare. He pumps his hands in the air, smile wide and proud. The crowd cheered for him, but no man was louder than King Bokuto Hironori of Fukurodani. The boy had to be his son, Koutarou.

Keiji didn’t realize how long and hard he’d been staring until the wreath was torn from his hands. His father crowned Koutarou himself and walked back to Keiji with a heavy glower. “That,” he began with a voice darker than night. “Is what a son should be.”

♕

Ever since the games, a new spark had ignited inside Keiji. He wanted to be good at something. Not to make his father proud or prove his worth as a son, but because he wanted to be in a league like Koutarou’s. He wanted to compete in the next games so that if he won, maybe he could approach the other boy and talk of their matching wreaths. Maybe they could be friends. Keiji couldn’t run as fast, but the servant’s pointed out that he had the perfect body to learn. He was light, his legs long and slim. 

The servants helped him train, taking him out to the beach and racing him until none of them were able to compete. He was soon able to beat every boy, even those older than him by four summers. Sometimes, when they all had to go back to their duties and Keiji was alone, he went to the beach on his own. The prince didn’t notice a figure trailing behind him.

“You’re slow.”

Keiji turned, eyes widening. He spotted the boy coming towards him, one of the servant’s sons. He was older and bigger than Keiji, and nothing about the way he was approaching him currently seemed kind. “What?”

“I said you’re slow. You’re going to make a fool out of yourself if you try to join the Games.”

Keiji blinked, wondering what the boy could possibly want. He couldn’t find it in himself to be hurt. After all, he’d heard much worse from his father. So he turned and shrugged, meaning to go to his normal training spot, but the boy’s big and dirty hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. “H-Hey!”

“Nothing to say?” He let go of Keiji’s shoulder, and he lost balance, falling to the sand. “I guess the rumors are true. You _are_ simple.”

People thought he was simple? Keiji wasn’t aware of that. “Leave me alone.” He was tired of this. He was tired of all the boys his age looking down on him. How did his size somehow negate the fact that he was still their prince? 

“Why should I? Are you going to make me?”

Keiji rose shakily to his feet, scowling. The other boy was towering over him, arms crossed tightly over his chest and a prideful smirk twisting his ugly face. So it was a fight he wanted. Perhaps he was tired of being the bastard son of a servant woman and wanted to feel some dominance over another. Keiji knew he was small, but he was still this boy’s prince, and he would be damned if he was going to let him continue disrespecting him like this.

If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he would get.

Keiji rushed forward, his palms colliding with the boy’s shoulders. It was just supposed to be a soft push, something to knock him off his feet and teach him a lesson about disrespecting royalty. He didn’t expect the deafening crunch of his skull against an unfortunately placed rock that followed. Keiji’s shaking hands slapped over his mouth, red discoloring the sand beneath the boy’s large head.

Not knowing what else to do, Keiji fled. He stumbled and he tripped, unable to see through the thick flow of tears, scraping his knees and elbows. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t go back home. Only the Gods knew what would be waiting for him there.

The servants asked the King to send out a search party after they noticed Keiji’s absence stretching an odd amount of time. They found him curled under a tree on the beach, tears dried on his face and crimson splattered on the white cloth draped over his body. His father frowned when he was returned, disappointment and disgust painted over his harsh features. The mother of the boy had no right to demand justice for her son’s life. If the King wanted, he could brush this under the carpet and decree no one ever speak of the incident again.

But he did not want to.

The life of a servant boy meant nothing to him, but the opportunity to get his small and useless son out of the picture was finally being presented. He pretended, for a moment, to have a heart of decent morals and acted as if he had no choice but to banish Keiji from the kingdom. His crime was too horrendous, too atrocious, and he didn’t care to listen when Keiji insisted through sobs and cries that it was an accident. 

Though it would be strange to call this mercy, the King arranged for Keiji to stay with the ruler of the land he’d be exiled to. Keiji might have been barely a boy, but he knew what was in store for his future. He’d be sold off for his weight in gold--which wasn’t much--and enter a new land with nothing, not even the name of his family. His father was no longer his father, and he was now an orphan.

He begged and he pleaded with the soldiers taking him to the ship to at least tell him where he was going. The ex prince hated how desperate and foolish and childish he had to look, but he had nothing more to lose at this point. If he could just have some reassurance that he wasn’t being sent off to his death or slave labor under the thumb of yet another cruel king, he’d dry his tears and accept it.

“Fukurodani,” one of the men grunted, his voice gruff in an effort to make sure no one but the boy heard. Blinking a few times, the water in his eyes started to dissipate. 

Fukurodani. The land of the swift footed prince with dual colored hair.

Perhaps the gods had finally chosen to smile down on him.


	2. figs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> general tw: suggested and non-graphic rape in the beginning (not concerning bokuto or akaashi)

Alynthi was absolutely nothing in comparison to Fukurodani. Placed right along the sea, they were rich beyond belief due to a bustling trade of salt and fish and everything in between. Their land, fertile and rich, inhabited by happy and content people. Everything good about Fukurodani could be attributed to their King, Hironori. Adored, brilliant, benevolent, and pious. So much so that the Gods themselves favoured him and his devotion. As a show of gratitude, he was given a sea-nymph as a wife and promised a son from her womb.

He would be a fool to pass up the opportunity. A child of god blood was ensured to be great, and his specifically was ensured to be greater than even him by the Fates. Long after Hironori passed, Fukurodani could still thrive.

There was just one catch. Thetis, the sea-nymph, had no interest in relations with humans.

Everyone knew the story of Hironori’s conquering of Thetis. All the Gods told him was that she would fight. Her skin was fluid, blue as the ocean in one form, a mess of beaks and teeth in the others. But once Hironori had his arms around her, he didn’t let go. It was an impressive feat, really. She left him as bloody as the skin between her thighs in the aftermath. 

Despite her aversion, a deflowering was just as binding as vows, and the two were now wedded. Her reluctant womb birthed Hironori a single son, and she disappeared into the waters of Fukurodani as soon as her hands were clean of him. Whenever she returned, it was never for the King. He and his mortal mediocrity disgusted her.

But the boy, Koutarou, was different. He was of her divine body and therefore deserving of her presence. She talked to him, never for more than a handful of minutes. Nurses and servants took care of the other ‘motherly’ duties. 

He grew to be a marvelous boy despite everything. Bright and playful. Koutarou’s energy was boundless, and Hironori noticed this right away, pushing his son into games all around the country. He hoped it would be enough to fulfill the absence of friends every normal boy his age had, but that was not the case. Even kind children like Bokuto needed companions that weren’t servant women and his father.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here in Fukurodani, Prince Ito Keiji.”

And that was where the Alynthi boy came in.

“But, forgive me, that title has been lost, hasn’t it?”

The small boy had a strange interest in the marble floors, not even looking up to face Hironori as he nodded his head in response. It was a good thing that the King of Fukurodani was not the same kind of ruler as his father. What Hironori saw as timidness in a young boy might’ve been perceived as disrespect in the wrong eyes.

“I’d appreciate it if you looked me in the eyes and used your words when you’re in my presence, boy,” he said in the gentlest of tones as to not scare the ex prince.

His head snapped up, thin bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I-I apologize, your majesty. Yes, I… I did. I lost… it.”

“Mhm.” Hironori rested his head on his hand, stabilized by the armrest of his throne. “We will need a new name for you then. Do you have any preferences?” He shook his head. “I see. Well, from what I know, the late Queen of Alynthi hailed from the Akaashi tribe. I think that is suitable, don’t you?”

Gulping, he nodded. “Perfect. Akaashi it is. That is how you will introduce yourself to my son when you first meet,” said Hironori. “Though I’m sure this will not strain you horribly, please refrain from speaking of your past.” Akaashi’s gaze returned to his feet, a terrible red painting his pale skin all the way down to his collar bones. “If you aim to become a proper companion of Koutarou, the details will only paint you in a light not appealing to him.”

“His—His friend?” Akaashi began. “Your majesty,” he added on quickly.

“Yes, precisely. I didn’t pay your last King the gold I did for nothing.” Hironori leaned back in his throne. Akaashi shifted his weight from side to side. “Boys your age require a companion to spend the sunlit hours with, do they not? Unless that’s not satisfactory to you?”

“No, n-no! It’s not a problem at all, your majesty. I was just… I was just curious why you needed a—an exile to accompany the prince.”

Hironori’s eyes closed as he exhaled a long sigh. “Unfortunately, the relationship between mortal and god is not a simple one, Akaashi. With Koutarou being both, his mother’s boundaries are quite… restrictive, if you will.” He sounded a hundred years more aged than he had just moments ago. “Boys of both noble and servant blood have not been enough for her. I pray you will be different.” His stone expression suddenly turned with a deep frown. Akaashi stiffened, simultaneously wondering what he missed as well as what could be coming. “For your own sake, you should too.”

♕

Hironori had his own couple of rules for Akaashi regarding his son as well that he was currently running through over and over and over again through his head as he was led through the well lit and warm halls. He couldn’t even stop to admire how different of an atmosphere the Fukurodani palace had in comparison to the one in Alynthi. The long stretches of grand columns let in grand amounts of afternoon sun, the kind Akaashi never got holed up in his room. Even the halls were filled with a kind of contentment he never used to hear. Servants and nobles passed by them, speaking and laughing to each other in proud voices, ashamed of nothing.

He was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts to appreciate the beauty of any of it, though.

The true gravity of everything Hironori told him set it in too late. The King’s voice was kinder than he was used too, perhaps too kind for the words he had been saying. Either way, it left Akaashi blindsided. Here he was in a foreign land, exiled, and now he was expected to be the friend of a godblood prince whose goddess mother killed every friend he’d ever had.

Akaashi dreamed of running away from home far too many times, but he never imagined himself missing it. As disheartening as life got at moments, it was… simple. Smooth. He never feared more than his own father, but that was different now. Akaashi had barely been in Fukurodani for a day and he felt as if he made more enemies than friends.

And, at the very least, he used to be a prince. Respected and precious to most. Here, in Hironori’s eyes, he was expendable.

The servants in front of him came to a half. Akaashi, noticing seconds too late, stumbled into the doors they opened. Before he could even regain his footing, they were closed, locking him inside. He swallowed thickly, noticing right away that he was in a bedroom, and more importantly, he was not alone.

Bokuto lounged on a pillowed bench across the way, lit by the sun light streaming in through the windows. He had a lyre in his lap and a ball wrapped in the leather of a pig’s bladder at his feet. 

Horrible words returned to Akaashi’s memory as he locked his azure eyes with the golden ones of the prince. “ _ That is what a son should be,” _ his father had told him through clenched teeth. Akaashi bit his lip. This close, barely a couple of steps away from the boy, he understood what was meant.

Though the day was warm and bright and the room was open and illuminated, Bokuto was still the most luminous thing in the room. All the riches of a prince littered the floors, but Akaashi was drawn to nothing else but him.

“What’s your name?”

He had the voice of the boy, pitchy and unstable. Akaashi didn’t know what he’d been expecting. He’d always assumed godbloods escaped the womb as men armed by the sword and shield, but Bokuto was nothing of the sort. Tall, taller than he’d been at the games, but lanky. A bit… just a bit like Akaashi.

“What’s your name?” Bokuto repeated, louder this time. Akaashi stiffened, he hadn’t realized he’d been addressed.

“Ke—Akaashi.”

“Keshi?”

Akaashi’s cheeks burned. “Akaashi,” he reiterated, despising his own timid tone. He wanted to sound strong and confident, everything he ever wanted to be. He wanted to impress Bokuto, to make him  _ want  _ him as the companion he was bought to be.

If that didn’t happen, Akaashi feared what would become of him.

For moments too long, Bokuto stared, his abnormally large eyes scanning him from head to toe. As the silence grew and grew, Akaashi’s fright that he would be rejected grew in tandem. He waited in nervous and painful anticipation for Bokuto’s dismissal which could go no good way for him, unti…

Bokuto’s lips parted in a wide, toothy smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Akaashi!” he exclaimed in pure joy. Akaashi’s eyes widened, surprise that he couldn’t suppress coating his face. “I’m Bokuto. Welcome to Fukurodani!”

♕

Bokuto’s overzealous attitude was teetering on the verge of unbearable. It was obvious that he didn’t know any better, simply excited to be around another his age, and Akaashi felt guilty just for thinking such a thing. It was only that he was used to the company of adults, the servant women who spent their free time telling each other stories. Only three of them had children, but none of them wanted to play with the prince whose father caused them so much pain.

Bokuto wanted to run and swim and laugh constantly. He knew everyone around town, greeting them enthusiastically with bright smiles and waves. They, whoever they were, paid the boy at his side no mind. Akaashi figured they didn’t expect to see him again. He watched silently as the townspeople offered their goods—fish, fruits, imported cloths—all of which Bokuto refused with an incredibly charming grin. Akaashi did his best to keep up with him, his legs shaking with strain by the end of the day. The sun was beginning to set and Bokuto finally decided it was time to return to the palace grounds.

Back in his room, he returned to his bench, gesturing for Akaashi to join him on the other side. He picked up the lyre that had been laying on his lap. “Do you play?”

Akaashi shook his head. “My father did not like music.” His late wife adored it too much.

“And? He’s not here.” Bokuto pushed the lyre into Akaashi’s hands. “I can teach you.”

Akaashi didn’t care enough to refuse. “Okay. But what will you play?”

“I have another.” He rose to his feet, scampering over to a chest in the corner of the room. “My father gave it to me yesterday. He said it was a gift from your king.” Bokuto sat back down, and when Akaashi’s eyes settled on the instrument resting on his thighs, his eyes widened. If the prince noticed, he didn’t show. He continued to turn the pegs, tuning it, using Akaashi’s as reference.

The impeccable golden wood… he would recognize it in a heartbeat. It belonged to his mother. The servants said she’d play it nightly, singing and longing for the life she used to live.

But she was dead, and it rightfully belonged to Akaashi.

“Would you rather play this one?”

Akaashi’s chest tightened. He would know that wood like his own skin, and he wouldn’t be able to keep down the tears welling up. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. Bokuto seemed unaffected by Akaashi’s distress, returning to the perfecting of his lyre’s pitch. He could do nothing else but continue to watch him and pretend to be listening to whatever tips he was spouting.

“Koutarou.” A man stood at the entrance, his presence demanding attention. Akaashi gulped, recognizing him as the King. Hironori.

Why was he here?

Did he do something wrong? There was no way. He had barely opened his mouth. He did everything Bokuto suggested. Akaashi’s skin crawled, his heartbeat quickening with each passing second as the man approached them slowly, like a lion stalking its prey.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching Akaashi how to play.”

“Oh? Then by all means, pardon my interruption and continue.” Hironori adjusted his robes and sat on the edge of Bokuto’s bed, facing them. Akaashi wanted him to leave. He didn’t even want to have the lyre in his hands, but having the man watch him learn to play was far,  _ far  _ worse. 

“Alright.”

Bokuto began to play on his own. Akaashi put aside his confusion and fear for one moment and listened. The prince’s fingers were slim and nimble, plucking each string gracefully, crafting a delicate and beautiful melody. His eyes were cast down. Akaashi couldn’t see his eyes, but he could see his grey eyelashes flutter against his cheeks with each blink. He was… mesmerizing. By the time he stopped and silence replaced his song, Akaashi felt as if he broke from a daze.

“Now you.”

“W-What?”

“Now you try playing,” Bokuto repeated like it was obvious.

“I-I--” Akaashi sputtered, looking down at the lyre. He didn’t even know where to lay his hands. “I don’t--”

“That’s alright, Koutarou,” Hironori called out, his strong voice sending a shiver down Akaashi’s spine. “Just continue to play. Akaashi and I will listen.”

Akaashi was quick to nod, appreciating Hironori’s rescue. Bokuto’s golden gaze flicked from his father to him before he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.” His fingers melted into place, and as he played this time, he sang. He possessed a low tenor, something as different to his normal voice as it was strange. A strand of black and white escaped the loose confines of his ponytail and fell across his forehead. Bokuto did nothing to move them, but Akaashi was overwhelmed as he suppressed the urge to reach across the width of the couch and tuck them back behind his ear. 

Slowly, the notes ended. It was hard to tell whether one or ten songs had passed, but neither Hironori or Akaashi had grown tired.

“I’m done now,” Bokuto said softly, standing to return both lyres to where they belonged. 

“Brilliant. Thank you, Koutarou.” Hironori stood as well, and a wave of awkwardness ran over Akaashi, realizing he was the only one still sitting. “Goodnight then, boys. I will see you in the morning.”

Bokuto nodded his head softly and Akaashi mimicked the movement, making his just a bit deeper so Hironori didn’t think he was ignoring him. The King folded his hands in front of him and walked out, taking the heavy weights on Akaashi’s shoulders with him. 

“Have you grown tired?”

“I--yes.” Akaashi bobbed his head enthusiastically. He couldn’t wait to finally rest his body. “I have.”

“Mhm,” Bokuto hummed. “Let’s sleep then.”

Before the fear of sharing a bad could even register in Akaashi’s head, Bokuto pulled a pallet out. He set a blanket and pillow from the bench. “For you,” he said, finally, gesturing to his creation.

“Th-Thank you,” Akaashi murmured, stepping over carefully like every other marble tile was a trap. “Is there--”

“I will be gone in the morning.”

Akaashi stiffened. “O-Oh?” He swallowed thickly. “Why?”

“Drills.”

“Shall I… sh-shall I prepare to come with?”

Bokuto shook his head. “I wish, but my mother has forbade it.”

“Why?” Akaashi didn’t know why he was asking so many questions. He wasn’t even all that interested, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

“Because of the prophecy. The one that says I will one day be the greatest warrior of this generation.”

Godbloods were always the greatest at something. Heracles, Jason, Perseus… their names would echo throughout history. But they were cruel men. Perhaps their souls resided in Elysium, but they did not make it there through lives of peace and kind actions. They were warriors. Leaders.  _ Killers.  _ Akaashi couldn’t imagine Bokuto using the same gentle hands he used to play his lyre to end another life. He might know very little of the other boy, but he was confident in the fact that he was not like them.

But Akaashi was not Thetis. He was not the Fates. He had no authority.

“Alright then,” he began. “I will see you when you return, then, Bokuto.”

♕

True to Bokuto’s word, when Akaashi’s eyes opened to the first ray of sunlight, he was gone, his bed empty. He left the sheets tangled and messy like he’d left in a hurry. Knowing little else to do, Akaashi stretched out his tense limbs as far as they would go, some muscles burning from yesterday’s strain, and fixed Bokuto’s bed. He returned his pallet to where he saw it come from as well and stood over the empty room, cold and alone.

Akaashi sat down on the window side bench, scared to upset the neat bed and in need of what little sun was coming in at this time of morning. There, he waited for Bokuto’s return. He passed the time by dozing off and wondering what the prince could be getting up to. If he was training with his mother to fulfill his destiny, he had to be doing all sorts of things with spears, swords, and everything in between.

Everything Akaashi’s father never wanted him to do, saying he was far too weak to even attempt such things.

Despite his desires, Akaashi’s mind delved into his past. Mainly his father and the relief he had to be experiencing with his simple and fragile son off his hands. He thought of Hironori for some time as well. That was a man with nothing but love and pride for his child. It was written all over him as he watched Bokuto play the lyre last night.

A godblood for an heir. Strong, capable, destined for greatness, and gifted in so many ways.

Akaashi couldn’t even imagine the completion Hironori had to feel in life. He was envious and sad and angry all at the same time. If his mother was a goddess as well, he too could be great like Bokuto. It wasn’t his fault that his mother was bird boned and mortal. Responsibility for that should lie in her and his father, and the longer Akaashi thought about it, the less he wanted to be punished for something he couldn’t possibly control. 

Once the Sun reached its peak in the blue sky, Bokuto came into the room, his skin dusty and bruised. Akaashi stood to greet him but no words were exchanged as the prince fell face first into the bed. Neither of them moved and as soon as Bokuto’s heavy breaths levelled out, Akaashi collapsed back onto the bench, defeated.

This was it. This was his life now, and he had no choice but to accept it until Thetis learned of his existence and killed him.

♕

“Let’s go to the beach.”

“Okay,” Akaashi agreed because he had no choice but to.

Bokuto awoke from his nap more energized than ever, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for Akaashi to catch up at the door. He zoomed out of the palace halls, and Akaashi couldn’t believe he ever fantasized about beating him in a race. There was barely any competition between them. Bokuto reached the sandy shores with his shoulders squared and chin held high. Akaashi had to put his palms against his knees to simply try and catch his breath.

Bokuto waited patiently for Akaashi to be able to stand on his own without his head feeling light. He pulled a ball from out of nowhere and suggested a game foreign to his ears. All it was was tossing the ball back and forth with a little bit of complicated maneuvers. They ran all over the beach trying to keep it from hitting the sand, diving, skipping, falling, and tripping. 

They swam next, leaving their clothes in heaps by the rocks. Bokuto challenged him to races under the water and competitions in holding his breath one after another. Though he lost every time, Akaashi felt himself feeling strangely… light. 

There was something about Bokuto’s joyous smile as he popped his head over the surface of the water that made losing so easy. 

Akaashi smiled and laughed until his cheeks hurt. For once in his life, he was able to forget his insecurities and worries.

Back on the beach, they were alone, and left their dry clothes alone. Bokuto climbed a nearby tree and tossed down a multitude of figs for Akaashi to gather in his arms. They sat against the roots, eating until they no longer could and letting their bodies dry in the summer air. 

“Come with me tomorrow.”

“Hm?” Akaashi hummed, wiping the juices from his lips. “To your training.”

“Yes.”

Akaashi’s heart dropped. “With your mother?”

Bokuto shook his head. “No. She won’t be there tomorrow.”

Akaashi blinked, waiting for Bokuto to say something more. A reason, perhaps. He didn’t think an explanation was too out of line seeing as he was just being told last night that anyone was forbidden from watching his drills. Most importantly, Akaashi would do anything to stay out of Thetis’s knowledge in hopes that it would prolong his life.

“Is there… is there a reason?”

Bokuto’s teeth snapped through the skin of the fig in his hand. “Should there be?” He chewed without a care. “I do not wish to be alone. That is all.”

Akaashi bit his lip. Who was he to say no, anyway? He could refuse with all his will, and he would still have to do what Bokuto said. “Alright.”

And… it wasn’t like he was dreading it, after all. Thetis wouldn’t be there, and Akaashi found himself rather enjoying Bokuto’s company. Anything was better than sitting in a bedroom alone and with nothing to do, in the end. 

“Great!” Bokuto beamed and Akaashi reached his arm out to wipe a seed from the corner of lip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry for the wait n boring chapter. i'm just trying to get through this stage in their relationship so we can reach the fun, trojan war, angst stuff. 
> 
> also, for anyone who has read, tsoa, u probs noticed that i'm leaving some parts and details out and creating my own stuff instead. i apologize for that, i just want this to go a bit faster than the actual book.
> 
> anywayssss,,, hope you enjoyed. thank you sm for the support on my first chapter, it's so greatly appreciated especially since is my first shot at writing haikyuu fanfic.


	3. thetis.

Akaashi never encountered any sort of godblood before, but if he had, he was sure they would’ve fought much like Bokuto. Graceful, swift, and moving like a tree in the wind, not going where they’re told or fighting, but going where they are taken. Whether he was throwing a spear or slashing down imaginary enemies left and right, Bokuto trusted each limb of his body to move and bend in a way that he intended. He never stumbled, never questioned himself. Akaashi was filled with awe.

_ “That is what a son should be.” _

Akaashi’s legs grew restless. He asked Bokuto if he needed a partner, not because he thought he was a worthy contender, but because he was tired of sitting. Bokuto told him no, saying it wouldn’t be fair. Akaashi offered to arm himself. The last time he tried to lift a sword in Alynthi, he couldn’t, but he gained three summers since. Bokuto refused, saying it would be dangerous. Akaashi said he wouldn’t gain much experience battling with ghosts so Bokuto said that one day, one day he’d teach Akaashi to hold a sword the same way he’d taught him to hold a lyre.

With that, he was content. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned against a tree stump as Bokuto did everything his mother required of him. Unfortunately, he was still just a boy, and that got dull quickly too.

“I want to swim.”

Bokuto looked up to the sky, noting the placement of the Sun. “I can’t yet.”

“Then I will go,” said Akaashi, standing.

“You can’t.”

“Are you going to stop me?” Akaashi knew very well that he could. They both did. Bokuto took it as a challenge either way, a smile growing on his lips. “Race you.”

Dropping his armor and weapons with no hesitation, Bokuto passed Akaashi quickly and with ease. But that was expected. Akaashi didn’t want to beat him, instead focusing on putting just one or two steps between them, and crashing into his back. They fell to the sand in a tangled mess of limbs, rolling down a small dip in the land. Bokuto’s breath caught because even with all his godly blessings, there were no eyes on the back of his head.

Akaashi’s laugh of victory was cut short as he was flipped onto his back, his wrists caught. “Let go of me!”

“No.” Bokuto squeezed harder, grinning boyishly. He pressed his knees into the sides of Akaashi’s body. Torn between a chuckle and a pant, he continued to try and fight against him. It was futile and a waste of breath Akaashi wanted for when they got to the water. He allowed himself to go limp, surrendering.

“I have never seen a boy fight like you,” he said, the words spilling from his lips before he entirely thought them through.

“I am the only boy you have seen fight.”

Clucking his tongue, Akaashi kicked his legs and Bokuto fell off only because he didn’t try, laying next to him with his arms widely spread.

“Still. There is no one like you.”

“I am nothing but a boy.”

Akaashi wondered if he actually believed that, or if he was as humble of a man as his father. “Perhaps,” he said, pushing himself up to his elbows. “Let’s swim now.”

♕

Everything that Akaashi was never taught about being a prince, he learned at Bokuto’s side. He sat through talks with Hironori though he was never addressed, accompanied him down to the marketplace, and listened in on the lyre lessons. And once those duties were completed, they swam. Or they climbed trees, or tossed Bokuto’s ball around, creating games and point systems of their very own.

They were… friends, and Akaashi didn’t even feel bad admitting that to himself. He had never felt the pure bliss of youth before, and he adored every moment he was gifted.

Today, they rested in the shelter of the forest beside the beach, chewing on figs that Bokuto picked. Their cheeks were red and burnt, their breaths heavy as they tried to catch them. An absence of words was common and welcomed between them, but never lasted too long. 

“I talked with my father today,” Bokuto started. Akaashi nodded. He remembered being told to stay behind this time specifically, and suffered each long second until they were reunited again. “He told me why you came here. Or were brought here, I supposed.”

Akaashi’s hands went still and his eyes widened. Bokuto… knew? Pure and righteous Bokuto? Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Their magnificent friendship was going to end just as soon as it started. Could Bokuto even stand the sight of him? Was he brought out here where they were the only two souls for miles to pay for--

“He said you could still be a good man.” Bokuto didn’t meet his eyes, focusing down on the blades of grass he was plaiting. Akaashi’s mouth was dry as he expected the worst. “I think I agree. Why did you do it?”

His lips unleashed the story in a haste to defend himself, to make sure Bokuto didn’t think of him differently. He told of the countless nightmares that plagued him ever since, the blood he seemed to smell at odd times, and the way it had been nothing but an accident. Akaashi was out of breath by the time he finished. Bokuto didn’t answer right away, and the quiet was unbearable for the very first time. Painful, almost. 

“You were defending yourself. Your honor,” he murmured, sounding strangely indifferent. “Do you miss your home?”

“No.”  _ If I never left, I never would’ve met you. _ “I had nothing there.”

“You were a prince.”

“I was an unwanted son.” He knotted his fingers in his lap. “Small and weak.”

“So?”

Akaashi looked into the molten pools that were Bokuto’s eyes, finding nothing but true curiosity. “I don’t expect you to understand,” he whispered. “You don’t know what it feels like to be unwanted or unloved.”

Bokuto blinked, taking a second to process the accusation. “Among mortals, I guess… I guess I don’t.”

Akaashi pretended to know what that meant.

♕

“My mother wants to see you.”

Akaashi was known around the Fukurodani palace as Bokuto’s shadow, but he was forbidden from ever accompanying him whenever Thetis called. It was not a problem. Akaashi appreciated the relationship he had with the Gods from the temples with his offerings. Things never seemed to go well when a god approached a mortal.

He heard Thetis despised humans, especially those that dared to fraternize with her son. The fact that she killed every last one of the boys that became Bokuto’s friend always sat in the back of his head. 

“Did she say why?” Akaashi asked, swallowing down his fear. 

“No.” Bokuto picked up a stone and skipped it across the water. It bounced one, two, three times before sinking.

“What do you think?” He had to know. He had to. He had to be aware of the reason every last one of his friends disappeared. Akaashi prayed that he would tell him not to go, that he cared enough not to send him to his death.

“I see no problem with it.” He threw another pebble. It bounced four times, and sunk with Akaashi’s heart. “She said tomorrow night.”

Akaashi bowed his head. “Okay.” If a goddess wanted to see him, they would whether or not he came to them willingly. To not make her angry would increase his chances of living. “Should I bring a gift?”

“No mortal good can appease her.”

“Ah.” Akaashi tossed a stone of his own. After two hops, it sunk.

♕

As the Fukurodani palace slept the following night, Bokuto waved Akaashi goodbye at the doors. It was dim and cold and Akaashi had never left on his own. He wanted to stay, but could not bring himself to even ask if it was okay. Gulping, he pulled a borrowed cloak of warm, black fabric tight around his shoulder and acknowledged Bokuto’s wave with a slight nod.

The beach was not as welcoming as Akaashi remembered without the light of the sun and chirping of birds. It was empty and though he swore he went exactly where Bokuto told him to go, he saw no goddess. Rubbing down the gooseflesh covering his arms, he crept closer to the shore until the frigid waters lapped at his bare toes. 

Akaashi blinked and suddenly, he was no longer alone.

She was dark, a mess of inky hair flowing down past her feet. Akaashi’s chin pointed straight upwards as he tried to find her eyes. Thetis did not look like any sort of mother for Bokuto. Where his skin was bronzed and honeyed from hours upon hours under the Sun, she was pale like alabaster. Where his presence brought joy and happiness to everyone around him, Akaashi’s heart was beating faster than it ever had before her. 

Thetis bent at her waist, her hair falling to expose eyes blacker than night and a face so harshly and sharply beautiful that it couldn’t be human. “Akaashi,” she said with a bareing of her pointed teeth. He didn’t like her voice, it was grating and terrible. Like thunder booming over an angry ocean. 

“Yes, my lady,” he responded, proud of himself for not stuttering.

She didn’t hide her distaste. She didn’t have to. As a goddess speaking to a mortal, she owed him no respect, even if he was a friend of her precious son. “Koutarou has told me of you.” Akaashi was scared to respond and was relieved when she gave him no room to. “He will be a god.” Her face came close to his, the smell of seaweed and salted sugar surrounding him from all directions. “Tell me that you understand.”

“Yes,” he said quickly to satisfy her. “I do.”

“Good.” Her horribly red lips pointed downwards. What a strong man Hironori must’ve been to take her face on. Akaashi wanted to do nothing more than run. “You will be dead soon enough.”

♕

Akaashi couldn’t bear to face Bokuto, to meet his golden eyes. He brushed right past him, sitting on the bed they’d been sharing the past night. Tired and confused and scared, he dropped his face into his hands. Bokuto continued to stand, glad to see his friend back safely, but put off by his blunt actions.

“What did she say to you?”

Akaashi didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. Bokuto frowned.

“Did she tell you that you would die soon?”

The speed at which Akaashi’s head perked up was alarming. “Did you expect her to?”

Bokuto shrugged sheepishly. “She is… she is like that.”

Akaashi sighed. He couldn’t be mad at Bokuto for sending him into harm’s way if he wasn’t even harmed. “She did,” he murmured, untying the cloak and letting it pool around his hips on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” said Bokuto, his tone genuine. “I asked her not to hurt you.”

Akaashi didn’t care. He really didn’t. He was more preoccupied with other things. “She wants you to be a god.”

“I know.”

“Do you… do you want to be a god?”

“I don’t know.” Bokuto sat down next to him, shoulders slumped. “I know nothing of what I have to do or how it happens or what she has planned.” He rubbed his knees with his hands. “When would it happen anyway? In a month? In a year? In ten?”

Akaashi’s lips parted in disbelief. “Have you forgotten who you are talking to? I’m mortal. I know no more of the gods than what I see in temples and shrines.” 

Bokuto scowled. “Even she doesn’t know how she will do it,” he said, ignoring Akaashi. “She pretends to. She says all I have to do is become famous enough.”

This, at least, Akaashi could understand. Either way, his question had not been answered. 

“Bokuto.”

“Yes?” he asked, almost breathless.

“Do you want to be a god?”

“No,” he said in a tone softer than a whisper. “Not yet.”

Akaashi couldn’t deny the flutter he felt in his stomach. He didn’t know for how long, but Bokuto would still remain with him. 

“But I’d like to be a hero. I think… I think I’m capable of it. There is a prophecy, after all.” He started to sound wistful. Bokuto, like every other twelve year old boy, dreamt of greatness. Of fame. Of having their names spoken like Heracles or Theseus. But not every twelve year old’s blood flowed alongside ichor. 

If anyone could be the next Perseus or Jason, it was Bokuto. He was born for it. An image of him, his body matured and large, hair pulled back by golden ties and a golden back, and adorned in armors welded by the gods was easy to imagine.

Akaashi dreamt of no such glory. He would never be a king. He would never be a god. He would never be a hero.

But if Bokuto became one, tales of his greatness were told for centuries to come, that would be enough for him.

♕

Bokuto turned thirteen first, Akaashi following quickly after. Together, their limbs stretched and their bodies filled, ribs no longer poking through skin. Bokuto became handsome, and Akaashi was not the only one to notice.

The serving girls, the ones taken in as conquests of war and those that came from their wombs, noticed as well. Other noble boys--thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen--took one to bed almost nightly, but when Akaashi passed by gaggles of them in the halls, they spoke only of Bokuto’s hair or his striking eyes or his glittering destiny. 

Everytime the Sun began to set, Akaashi feared whether or not this would be the night Bokuto closed the door on him, a girl waiting on his pillows. 

And even though Bokuto could get the prettiest girl with the softest breasts and most supple hips, he never did. In fact, he seemed to show no interest. It was strange and noted by everyone in the palace. Hironori tried to help his son, offering a different girl every night, but he was always given a lazy excuse before Bokuto retired to bed.

The bed he shared with Akaashi.

Each night was innocent, though their bodies may have touched once or twice, and it wasn’t that Bokuto showed no interest in girls.

He showed no interest in  _ anyone. _

People of the palace enjoyed their gossip, and Akaashi was not oblivious to it. He heard what they said of him, that there was something odd about his proximity to their prince, that he didn’t look like most boys, his face far too feminine. They speculated that there was something between him and Bokuto because they knew no better.

Nevertheless… Akaashi wished they were right.

He wished the way Bokuto’s hands lingered when they touched and his refusal to spend personal time with anyone but him meant something. Akaashi wished for those golden eyes to look at him differently. Like more than just a friend or companion or someone to pass the formerly lonely days with.

It was no longer enough to be known as Bokuto’s shadow. He wanted the servant girls to watch their mouths around him like they would if he was born the same as them. He wanted… he wanted to love Bokuto.

And he wanted Bokuto to love him back.

“That girl,” Akaashi began, dragging his finger through the beach sand. “Emiko.” Bokuto looked at him, expectant. “Do you like her?”

Everyone knew Emiko. Not a slave but not a noble. She was somewhere in between and absolutely smitten with the swift footed prince. Even Hironori approved of her, doing as much as he could to drive her son into the space between her legs. She was beautiful and worthy, pale skinned and raven haired.

Akaashi hated her.

He felt awful in doing so. She was, after all, the only one of the palace girls that didn’t giggle when he walked past. Emiko tended to greet him, actually, and engage in polite conversation.

“Yes. She’s kind.”

“I didn’t mean that way.”

Bokuto sighed. “I hear enough about her from my father, must I hear this from you as well?”

“Oh.” Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck. “I apologize. I was just… curious.”

“Isn’t everyone?” With a loud thump, Bokuto fell onto the sand, his arms and legs fanned out. He looked towards the sky, protecting his eyes from the Sun with his fingers. “I don’t understand why it matters so much. What’s so great about girls, anyway?”

Akaashi laughed, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hear they’re amazing. That their bodies are soft and their voices are like birdsong.”

“Oh?” Bokuto chuckled. “Do  _ you  _ like Emiko?”

“No!” exclaimed Akaashi, realizing he did so too soon only after. “I mean… no. No, I don’t. But she is very pretty.”

“I agree. She looks like you.”

Akaashi’s heart stopped. He stared at Bokuto, his mouth gaping open. He waited for a laugh, for a clarification that it was a joke, but nothing came. The prince didn’t even look back at him as he was watching two birds pass. “W-What?”

“She looks just like you if your hair was long,” he repeated like it was fact. “Even your eyes are the same color.”

Akaashi shook his head. “No, that’s… that’s not--”

“It’s a compliment. I know you tend to overthink things, but you don’t have to with this.” Bokuto sat up, shaking his hand through his hair to remove the sand. “She came to the palace as an orphan. Do you seriously not hear people talk of you two as you could be siblings?”

“I hear almost too many things to keep track.”

Bokuto smiled. “My people love to talk.” He leaned back on one hand, the beginnings of grand muscles rippling beneath his skin. “You don’t have to worry about what they say of you or Emiko or anything else. They will speak of anything to fill the silence.”

“Ah.” Akaashi regretted ever bringing it up in the first place. “Perhaps.”

“Mhm.” Bokuto nodded. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t think we’ve climbed that tree yet,” Bokuto said, pointing his finger in a direction Akaashi didn’t care to follow.

“I’m tired.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh.”

Akaashi rested his chin on his knees, fixating his gaze ahead of him on the white bird pecking at the damp sand. He exhaled slowly through his nose, and a scream tore itself from his throat as a body collided with his side, knocking him to the ground.

“Bokuto!” Akaashi’s eyes were wide as he looked up at the godblood whose grim was so large, it crinkled the skin around his eyes. “What was that for?”

“You’ve been too serious lately. I want you to be fun again.”

Akaashi stared for a few moments, totally entranced. He could smell the oils Bokuto rubbed on his skin after he bathed, peaches and sandalwood. There was even the faint aroma of the hyacinths they walked through earlier coming off him. His wrists and waist were pinned against the sand, completely trapped, but he felt safe nonetheless. Warm.

He moved without hesitation, arching his neck up, truly unsure of his objective until their lips touched. Akaashi felt Bokuto’s smile drop right away against him, and at first, they shifted awkwardly. He could taste him, the pomegranate seeds he ate in the morning. Heat flowed through Akaashi’s body, tingling in his fingers and toes.

He wanted more.

Akaashi’s own confidence to keep this going surprised him, until he finally ran out of breath. His eyes opened to meet Bokuto’s eyes that never closed. He was surprised, his face slack. Akaashi inhaled shakily, slapping his released hands against his mouth. What did he just do? 

Bokuto stumbled to his feet, taking shaky steps before turning and leaving, a cloud of sand behind him. The fastest boy in the world. He disappeared from Akaashi’s vision in a matter of seconds.

He couldn’t move. He no longer knew how. His limbs were heavy like stone, and he was no longer warm. Instead, under the hot summer Sun, he was freezing cold.

♕

Akaashi returned to their room after hours, his throat raw from a childish fit of tears and screams. His heart fell into his stomach. He needed to see Bokuto, to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. He hadn’t been thinking. If he had, he never would’ve done such a thing. Bokuto would know. He would understand. He just had to make sure he heard.

There were a few places Bokuto could be, but Akaashi’s body was too heavy with shame to go searching. He took a seat on the bench beside the window and faced the door. How many hours passed after, he had no idea, but it was dark by the time Bokuto finally returned.

As soon as he noticed Akaashi the room’s width away from him, his tensed shoulders fell. He said nothing, only shaking his head as he shed his dusty tunic and fell onto the bed.

“Bokuto--”

“Don’t.”

Akaashi clamped his mouth shut. Bokuto continued to remain silent, and Akaashi figured he fell asleep.

“My mother came to talk to me,” he said suddenly, his voice, lower and darker than Akaashi had ever heard it, pierced through the quiet. “She told me I will be leaving tomorrow.”

This was not the time for an apology. Akaashi folded his hands in his lap and let Bokuto talk.

“I will be training with Chiron. He’s taught many great heroes.”

_ No. Not yet. You said you wouldn’t leave me yet. _

“Let me come with you.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t like you,” Bokuto said like Akaashi didn’t already know. 

“I don’t care. She can smite me down, but I cannot be apart from you.”

Bokuto turned onto his side and the moonlight streaming in from the windows covered his naked skin, making it glow. “You will learn to be.”

“Bokuto--”

“For your own safety, Akaashi, you will.” He sounded sad, like he’d been crying just as much as Akaashi had been. “If even I can’t change my mother’s mind, who are you to try?”

A tear rolled down Akaashi’s cheek, followed by no others. He’d dried out his reserves already. He didn’t remember how to live without Bokuto at his side. How was he supposed to fill the long hours of his day if he had no one to race to the beach? 

Well… he would be a fool to assume that even if Thetis didn’t take Bokuto away from him tomorrow that things would return to normal. Akaashi ruined everything they had. Everything they built. Maybe Bokuto asked to leave after he realized his friend was not the boy he thought he was.

It was no one’s fault but Akaashi’s that this was happening. He lost the right to get on his knees and beg Bokuto not to leave him behind no matter how much he wanted to.

“Will you… will you ever come back?”

Bokuto didn’t answer. He actually fell asleep this time, Akaashi noticed while listening to his soft and level breaths. He planned to sleep on the bench that night, but this might as well have been their last night with each other. The night was somehow more hot and humid than it had been hours before so Akaashi slipped his tunic off as well, just like he’d been doing every summer night, and laid beside Bokuto.

If the prince noticed, he didn’t contest. Akaashi was grateful for that much.

He slipped into sleep easily, his mind and body suffering from exhaustion. What seemed just like moments later, a chirp of a bird from outside the window they forgot to close awoke him. The Sun was rising and Bokuto was still slumbering next to him. Akaashi smiled and closed his eyes again.

The next time he opened them, he was alone.


	4. chiron.

Akaashi couldn’t bear the Fukurodani palace without Bokuto at his side.

He was an outsider. A guest whose stay was long over. He was brought here as a friend for the young prince so now that he was gone, what purpose did he serve? Akaashi avoided Hironori like the plague, dreading the kind of things he would hear if they came face to face. He spent the day at the beach, missing Bokuto. His laughter, his warmth, his energy…

Akaashi sighed. Delaying the inevitable was exhausting, and all he wished was some sort of mercy from the gods. He understood his hands were stained, but didn’t he already pay enough? In the first place, he didn’t have much. Not even the love of his father. He still lost everything. There was no more to learn. 

Then again… the smell of salt and seaweed was strong.

Thetis was no Olympian, but she was powerful enough to make a stupid mortal boy pay for daring to press his lips against those of her golden son. Akaashi, at only thirteen years old, made a goddess his enemy.

And here he stood… physically unharmed.

Akaashi wondered how far he could push it. Biting his lip, he surveyed the beach, taking in the sound of the water against the shore and the blistering heat of the Sun. If he was to leave, if he was to go to Bokuto, there was no one to stop him. 

He staggered to his feet and shook out his legs. Akaashi might not be as fast as Bokuto, but he was not slow. With luck, he could catch up to his friend.

So Akaashi ran. He ran and ran and ran and pushed and pushed and pushed even though his muscles cried out. The servants and the boys spoke of Bokuto going to a small Fukurodani territory, right up a mountain opposite of the ocean, where he would train with the legendary Chiron. 

An hour later, perhaps two, he fell to his knees, exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. He was surrounded by greenery and beginnings of mountain bases. When he looked down, the palace and the near by homes were nothing but small and colorful dots. Akaashi looked to the sky next, shielding his eyes from the harsh light of the Sun. It was summer and the days were long. He had at least three or four hours until it became dark and things take a turn for the worst.

Akaashi stood up, stabilizing himself against a rock when his knees nearly buckled. On his feet and alone, he didn’t have time to waste. Every moment he spent sitting, Bokuto got further and further away from him. He ran again, his body giving in much sooner for the second time. 

Leaning against a tree, chest heaving, a crack of a branch behind him caught his attention. He stiffened. Someone was following him? Akaashi never even noticed. He bit down on his tongue and tried with all his power to keep his breathing light. The rustles of untrained feet trying to be subtle were obvious but no less threatening.

“Akaashi?” _Agashee._

His name… pronounced quickly, carelessly, and heavily accented. There was only one person who ever called him in such a way.

He turned slowly, almost ashamed to come face to face with his friend. “B-Bokuto.”

The prince’s head fell to the side. The long black and white strands that he used to hang over his shoulders were tied neatly at the top of his head. He had a bow in his hands, a quiver of arrows over one shoulder, and a dead hare over the other. Akaashi gulped. His face wasn’t as overjoyed as he had hoped it would be. 

“What are you doing here?”

Oh yes… he wasn’t wanted. “I had to see you,” he answered honestly.

Bokuto frowned. “What were you thinking? It’s dangerous!”

“I can't live without you.”

“Did I not tell you to learn?”

“I can't.”

Bokuto’s jaw flexed. He looked to his side, and Akaashi feared that he upset him. Until… “I missed you as well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said with a small smile that he couldn’t suppress. “I… I hoped you would come.”

Akaashi beamed, his heart fluttering. No words could explain his delight. Despite everything, despite the kiss, and despite Thetis, Bokuto thought of him as much as he. He _wanted_ his company. The gods could punish him as much as they desired, but Akaashi no longer cared for them. He had Bokuto, and that was enough. 

“We'll rest,” Bokuto began, sitting down and unloading his kill. “We'll eat and then continue the rest of the way up the mountain together.”

Something was bothering Akaashi, though, as he watched Bokuto start a fire with sticks, skinning the hare with expertise as it crackled. He was faster than this. He should’ve reached the top of the mountain hours ago. Akaashi was nothing but relieved that their paths crossed, but it didn’t seem probable that he became faster than Bokuto overnight.

“Did you wait here for me?”

Bokuto glanced up at him through his thick, white eyelashes. “I stopped to hunt.”

“And the hours after that?”

He tapped the leather wrapped hilt of his knife, smirking. “You're clever.”

“What if I never came?”

“I would’ve assumed my mother killed you against my wishes.” Bokuto shrugged. “There would be no other explanation.”

Akaashi’s smile remained on his face as he watched Bokuto prepare the hare in silence. He was right. Death was the only thing strong enough to keep him from the prince’s side.

♕

True to Bokuto’s word, as soon as the food in their stomachs settled, they continued the rest of the way up the mountain together. Sometimes Bokuto would knock him to the ground and they would wrestle, laughing and grunting on the sticks and leaves. After Bokuto would inevitably win, Akaashi waited until he had the upper hand and got on top of his friend first. Even the slight advantage wasn’t enough to help him.

He could care less.

He could lose to Bokuto a million times and never tire.

“We’re here,” said Bokuto suddenly, just as Akaashi had started to plan his next attack. 

They stood in front of a cave, except it was made of something much grander than grey stone. It was crystalline and light, reflecting the little bits of sun that streamed through the canopy of the trees. Rose quartz, Akaashi believed. 

From it, a creature that he had never set eyes on before emerged from the wide opening. He had dark hair, both on his head and on the half of him that was horse. Akaashi gasped, taking a small step behind Bokuto. They could stand on each other’s shoulders and still not be as tall as the centaur.

“You are late.” His warm, brown eyes locked with Akaashi’s. “And not alone.” Though he was of monstrous height and half an animal, his gaze was kind. 

“Greetings, Master Chiron,” Bokuto said with a slight bow of his head. He was using his prince voice, the kind Akaashi heard him use around everyone except when they were alone. His syllables were carefully pronounced, and he spoke slower because of it. “My apologies. I had to wait for my companion.”

“No matter, though I appreciate your sincerity,” said Chiron. “And your companion that we have both waited so patiently for?”

With a gentle hand on the small of his back, Bokuto guided Akaashi from behind him to his side. “This is Akaashi. My friend.”

Chiron’s eyes connected with his once again. Akaashi gulped, bowing his head as he had seen Bokuto do. “I apologize for the delay as well.”

“Very well. You both may come in.”

The inside was large and spacious. Plants and flowers of different kinds, colors, and scents hung from the ceiling and jars with mysterious innards lined the walls. In one corner, multiple instruments--a lyre caught Akaashi’s eyes. In the other, a bed made of animal skins and padding. It was too small for Chiron so it must have been meant for Bokuto.

“Sit down.”

There were pillows near the center that Bokuto and Akaashi took. He was grateful to rest his legs, relief flooding his body as soon as his muscles were put to rest. Chiron moved to a small spring also inside the cave, filling to cups. “You two must be parched. How long has it been since you ate?”

Bokuto and Akaashi exchanged glances. The middle of the mountain felt like a lifetime ago. “Some hours,” said Bokuto.

“Ah.” Chiron gave them the cups and moved to a pot hanging over some slowly extinguishing embers. He filled two bowls of a warm stew with chunks of meat and vegetables. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi murmured, accepting the bowl and a spoon. He ate quickly, only realising his hunger as soon as he swallowed the first bite. While Bokuto and Akaashi finished up, Chiron presented them with some brightly colored berries. Finally, then, he sat--his horse legs folded beneath him.

He began to speak of everything around them, of where they were, and their purpose. They were on Mount Orthys and the stream that ran through the cave ran through all of Fukurodani. Hyacinths and daffodils were bountiful, coating the entire mountain in a thick and fresh aroma throughout the summer. Akaashi glanced to the tools of bronze hanging from the walls absentmindedly, but Chiron caught him. 

“Do you know what those are?”

Fearing he was in trouble, Akaashi shook his head, lips clamped tightly against each other.

Chiron laughed. “They are tools. For surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“Healing.” He was a teacher inside and out, his voice calm and knowing. “Sometimes deep wounds do not have to be fatal or a limb must be removed for a person to survive. With those,” he gestured to his collection, “we can make that all possible.” The edges were serrated and sharp to even look at. “Bokuto is here to learn how to be a warrior. You might as well learn something as well. Would you like to learn medicine?”

Akaashi wanted to be of use. He would do anything to not be sent back to the palace. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

“You might learn as well if you wish, Bokuto,” Chiron said, looking to the boy in question. “Do you find medicine useful to your training?”

“I suppose,” he answered with a shrug. “And please, you may call me Koutarou.”

One of Chiron’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what your friend calls you?”

“No.” Out of the side of his eye, Bokuto looked at Akaashi. “He's different.”

♕

As soon as the Sun’s light softened, Chiron showed them around the exterior of the cave. It was the area they would have to get used to as they would be living here until Thetis said otherwise. First, he pointed to where the mountain lions that saw small boys like them as prey rested, telling them to be wary. Then, a river. Gentle and warmed by the Sun.

“If you would like, you may bathe.”

They were sweaty and coated in dirt. Bokuto let his tunic pool at his feet and dove in, Akaashi at his heels. As they splashed and played, Chiron continued to teach. He spoke of the separation between venomous and harmless snakes as well as plants that could be eaten in times of desperation. His words, spoken sweetly and kindly, melted into the background.

Akaashi was at peace.

He didn’t enjoy clapping himself on the back, but he was proud of his decision to go after Bokuto. It felt too good to be wrong. And still… Thetis was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had given up, coming to terms with the fact that try as she might, she would not be able to separate them.

They emerged from the river, cleansed of the day’s grime. Bokuto rang out his hair like you would a rag. Akaashi cleaned their tunics with small rocks and set them out in the Sun to dry. Neither of them were ashamed in their nakedness as it was something they’d all seen time and time again. Chiron himself wore nothing, a true creature of nature.

With their cloths hung over their shoulders, they walked back to the cave and listened to the centaur tell them more of the forest. Of deer and hare prints, of the most efficient ways to track and hunt them like they’d be doing in days to come. Eager and excited, they chimed in every now and then to ask their questions. 

By the time they arrived, the Sun had gone to sleep. Inside, Chiron told them to gather wood and kindle the fire. Even though Bokuto already knew how to do so, he listened and obeyed in silence. With the fire going nicely, Akaashi and Bokuto were allowed to bask in its warmth which was complimented nicely by the incoming cold air. 

“I received a message from your mother, Koutarou.”

Bokuto’s spine straightened, his entire body tensing. “Is something the matter?” he asked like he didn’t know.

“Apparently, it is her wish that if the exiled Alynthi boy followed her son up the mountain, I should send him back.”

Akaashi sat up from his relaxed position, legs crossed and eyes wide. Though he tried to do so as subtly as possible, he looked at Bokuto. He didn’t seem to be all that nervous, but he had his ankles in a death grip.

Chiron sighed. “I have been around many years, Koutarou, and I don’t particularly enjoy being lied to. I don’t think you were particularly unaware of this.” All of a sudden, his voice was not a source of comfort. It was sharp and hard. Akaashi felt none of the bliss and contentment he felt before in the river. He was starting to believe that he should not think of happiness as something permanent. 

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi said, the words bubbling right out. “Bokuto had nothing to do with this. It was… it was all me because I-I didn’t think she would,” he paused, his throat painfully tight, “care.”

“Did you forget she was a goddess?”

It was the kindest way Akaashi had ever been called a fool before. There was nothing he could say confidently in his own defense so he stared at his feet. Bokuto, watching everything, frowned. “Chiron,” he began in a strong tone.

The centaur stopped him with a show of his palm. “If I was troubled by Akaashi’s presence, he would not be here.”

Bokuto blinked. “You… you'd disregard her?”

“I will not go as far to say such a thing,” he told them. “Because I am here to prepare you for your destiny and nothing else, Koutarou. So what I will ask you is are _you_ ready to disregard her?” Chiron left a space between his next phrase to let it sink in. “She is your mother, yes, but she is a goddess all the same.”

This was it. This was what it all would come to. Bokuto was being asked to pick between his friend or mother, and Akaashi’s stomach was in knots. If the question was him against other noble boys or Emiko or even Hironori, he knew Bokuto wouldn’t even hesitate before choosing him. But Thetis… she was a separate thing. 

“She doesn't--” he stopped almost instantly. Akaashi knew he was simply thinking out loud. “She doesn't like that I’ve chosen a mortal companion.”

“And what do you think of mortals?”

“I'm no different from them.” Bokuto glanced down at his hands, tracing the light blue lines of his veins like Akaashi had seen him do so many times. “Maybe her blood flows in me, but I can live and die just as anyone else.”

Chiron nodded. “And you, Akaashi… do you think you are worthy of Koutarou’s companionship?”

He inhaled sharply, not expecting such a question. “I…” he gulped, scared to say the wrong thing. “I don’t know, but I wish to stay. I wish to be at his side.”

Chiron let the crackling of the fire fill in between the three of them. Then, finally, he said, “Thetis said many things about the Alynthi boy. Things to discourage me from letting him on my mountain. Some things were true, but I see now that not all of them were.”

Akaashi couldn’t tell where he was heading with this.

“Young goddesses tend to share such prejudices, but I have lived long enough to see some great things in the most normal of mortals. If it is Akaashi that you desire as your companion, I have no objection.”

Akaashi felt as if the air was knocked from his lungs. He clutched his ribs, lips parted. He didn’t bother to see Bokuto’s reaction, barely even curious.

“You have to understand that she will not be happy, but the anger of the gods is something I have dealt with before.” He glanced over their heads at the night sky outside. “Nevertheless, you two should get some sleep. You have had a long day.”

Bokuto nodded. “Thank you, Master Chiron,” he said so genuinely and honestly that it made Akaashi’s heart tighten. 

The Centaur stood, acknowledged them with pats on the shoulder, and left the cave to go somewhere that didn’t concern them. Akaashi didn’t care. He was gifted one more day with Bokuto even though Thetis herself wished against it.

Exhausted, both physically and mentally, they lied together on the bed of animal pelts, needing nothing but the heat of each other’s bodies and the warm summer air to take them into a deep slumber.

♕

The next day, Chiron’s official lessons began, if they could even be called that.

Unlike the lessons that Akaashi sat through with Bokuto where they read through scrolls and books, everything Chiron taught, he taught through opportunities. They learned remedies to soothe the stomachs of ill wandering animals and protect them from tics. When Akaashi slipped on a slick stone, fracturing his leg, they learned how to clean the wound and set the bone. 

They practiced hunting through stalking and by bow and arrow. They found where to retrieve water if they ever found themselves alone without a waterskin. Soon, Chiron said he would teach them to forge blades for axes and spears.

Eventually, Chiron eased them out of the practice of eating whatever he gave. They made their own cheese through the milk of the goats on the mountain, picked berries, located fresh eggs, and checked their animal traps every morning. It was rare that they would ever find anything, but that never mattered. 

Only a month since they first arrived, Akaashi felt as if he learned more than he ever had in the past fourteen years of his life. But still, Chiron had more up his sleeve. One day, he walked over to his collection of bronze tools.

“Do you remember what I said these were for?”

Akaashi nodded. “Surgery.”

He took one down and brought it close to them where they could stare with big eyes. “You may touch it, but be careful. It is very sharp,” he said. “This one specifically is for removing flesh that has rotted.”

Chiron named bones on their very own bodies and the organs beneath their skin. Akaashi forgot them nearly seconds after he heard them, but it was enthralling nevertheless. When he spoke of the delicacy of their organs, of how any wound to them would be fatal, Chiron seemed to speak to Bokuto specifically. That made his skin crawl just so slightly. He didn’t enjoy the fact that even though Bokuto was strong and tall and big, he was as susceptible to death as Akaashi.

As soon as their lesson of surgery ended, he was happier.

That night, they laid on the grass outside the cave, watching the constellations. There was Orion, the legendary hunter and Cassiopeia, a beautiful queen. Stories of heroes were written up there, displayed for all of eternity for people to look up at and remember the greatness of men that once lived. Chiron pointed to Andromeda and told them of Perseus, the man who rescued her from a sea monster after he slayed the infamous Medusa.

It was a marvelous story. Akaashi could barely believe one human could do so many great things.

Chiron spoke of Heracles next, and the ending to his story was much sadder than he expected it to be.

Madness overtook him, and in it, he killed his wife and children who he couldn’t even remember.

Bokuto was appalled. “How could he not remember his wife?”

“That is what madness does, Koutarou,” Chiron said sadly. He had trained this man. Had seen him at his greatest and then his worst. Maybe he even knew the poor wife and children.

“Why did the madness come?”

“Because the gods were punishing him.”

“So they couldn’t have killed him in her stead?”

“We will never understand the way in which the gods function.” Chiron sighed. “Even with all my years. But when it was over, when the red faded from his vision and the chaos of his mind calmed, he awoke to the body of the woman he loved torn and slaughtered. Their children in her limp arms, dead as well.” His eyes turned glassy and Akaashi knew he was no longer telling a tragic story. He was recounting a horrible memory. “And then he was alone. His hands were red and there was no one to clean them.”

“That's unfair,” Bokuto said softly. “They were innocent.”

“When you’re a god, you’re not required to be fair.”

Bokuto nodded slowly, returning his gaze to the sky. Akaashi stared at him without shame, at the way the stars glittered in his eyes. His soft pink lips were parted as they tended to be when he emptied his mind and his eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly. Maybe he was struggling to locate the shapes in the sky that Chiron was continuing to explain. 

Akaashi knew he spent more time looking at Bokuto’s face than his own. He didn’t know what Heracles did to upset the gods, but he knew nothing they could ever do to him would make him forget the slope of his nose or the small scar beneath his eye. He would know it in dark or disguise. 

Even in madness.

♕

Days turned into weeks on the mountain. Weeks into months. One morning Akaashi awoke and the morning was chilly, the Sun peaking timidly through the clouds. Chiron was nowhere to be seen and Bokuto was still sleeping soundly. To keep from bothering him, Akaashi tip toed out of the cave. His skin immediately prickled, the thin layer of frost on the group stinging his bare toes. He grabbed one of the bear pelts from the corner and continued his way back out.

There was no snow at the Fukurodani palace. Just a slight dip in temperature near the late months of the year.

Akaashi loved the snow, as did Bokuto. It was strange and beautiful. 

But as Akaashi breathed in the fresh air, something didn’t feel as calm or at peace as normal. In the gentle breeze, there was a small tinge of… salt.

Akaashi gulped. “Chiron?” he called out into the open even though he knew better. “Chiron?”

“No.”

A figure loomed across the forest, standing at the edge of the stream they used to bathe and play in before it got too cold. Thetis, her ivory skin standing out in stark contrast, came closer. Akaashi couldn’t see her feet move as they were hidden by a long, shimmering dress that clung to her like scales to a fish. 

“You do not belong here,” she said, stepping forward. Grass and flowers, what little that were left of them ever since the cold hit, wilted in her wake. Creatures of the earth couldn’t withstand her salt. 

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi responded because what little vocabulary he had always disappeared in her presence. 

“You dare to defy me?” She bent down the same way she did the last time they met, right at her waist, and moved to his face. Her eyes were blacker and deeper than he remembered. When Akaashi looked at them, he could barely breathe. “He is here to be _away_ from you. To escape distractions.”

“I-I--” Akaashi sputtered.

“Who do you think you are, mortal?”

Her lips, red like blood oozing from a fresh wound, peeled back. Somehow, her teeth had grown sharper. Longer. One swift move and she could tear his head right off. What does one do when threatened by a god? Run?

No matter where he went or turned, he wouldn’t be fast enough to escape her.

“Thetis.”

Both their heads turned. Chiron emerged from the forest, a cloth sake overflowing with herbs in his hand. “Thetis,” he repeated in the same voice he used to scold Bokuto and Akaashi when they disobeyed him. “Hello. I did not expect you here this morning.”

“He is not supposed to be here.”

Chiron moved to Akaashi’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go back inside. We will speak later.”

Akaashi spared no extra second. He nodded and rushed back into the cave’s safe warmth. Jaw tight and breaths shallow, he shed his fur and jumped onto the empty spot of their bed. Bokuto jerked awake and Akaashi allowed him the next couple of seconds to adjust to his surroundings.

“Akaashi?”

“Bokuto,” he breathed.

The prince’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything alright?”

“Your mother is here.”

His frown was immediate. “Are you hurt?”

Akaashi shook his head. He didn’t think it was necessary to delve into the details of the situation where Thetis might have hurt him. Where she wanted to.

“I should go.” He straightened out his tunic as he ran, furless and defenseless against the cold. Akaashi gnawed on his bottom lip as he waited alone. He heard voices but made out no words. 

It was hours until they returned and Akaashi went back to sleep. When he came to his senses, Bokuto and Chiron were sitting across from him around the fire. “Bokuto,” he said for the second time that day. His voice was rough with sleep.

Akaashi wrapped a pelt around his shoulders and sat with them.

“It's alright,” Bokuto said before Akaashi even thought to ask. “All she desired was to speak to me, and… she will come again.”

“Ah.” Akaashi folded his hands in his lap.

Bokuto nodded. “I’m hungry,” he told Chiron.

“As expected.”

Chiron prepared breakfast, a special privilege for them after such an eventful morning. Akaashi ate in peace and calm because Thetis was gone, and he was still here. It didn’t matter what she wanted because Chiron intended to keep him.

She continued to come, just as Bokuto said. The whole forest would go silent when she did. Birdsong came to a halt and not even a single leaf dared to bristle. Akaashi tried not to care though he missed Bokuto terribly when she took him. Sometimes they were gone for minutes, sometimes for hours.

But he always returned and she always left. That was one thing he knew he could always find comfort in.

♕

Soon it was winter and the river was frozen solid. Though Bokuto and Akaashi sometimes cut holes into it and fished, there was not much to do in the terrible cold. No more opportunities to frolic or play. It was time to learn to fight.

Bokuto was great and Chiron was not surprised. It was in his blood, his bones. But one day he turned to Akaashi, three swords strung over his back instead of two.

“It is not in your destiny to gain fame from fighting which I am sure is not much of a surprise to you.”

He left space for a response. “It's not.”

“But I do not think that doesn’t mean you cannot be a fighter. Would you like to learn with us?”

Akaashi did not like violence. He decided that the day he split open a boy’s skull. But… if Bokuto’s destiny were to unfold and war was announced, Akaashi could offer him nothing unless he too could wield a sword. He sighed deeply, emptying his lungs. 

“Yes.”

♕

First they were fourteen. Then fifteen and sixteen. Men, in the eyes of most. Akaashi felt no different. He was taller, perhaps, and his voice had dropped low, but when he thought of himself… he still saw a small and cowering boy standing before a father that hated him.

“Your hair is longer.”

Normally, Bokuto and Akaashi would spend their days sparring or spear throwing. Today, they were lazy. Bokuto laid on the bed and Akaashi rested his head on his thigh.

“Is it?” asked Akaashi. “Maybe I should cut it.”

“No.” Bokuto moved his hair off his forehead, his touch soft and kind. “I like it.”

Akaashi’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

“It's strange, isn’t it?” Bokuto began, his fingers still absent mindedly carding through Akaashi’s hair. “To think of how much we’ve grown?”

“What do you mean?”

“We're not kids any longer. We are… men.” He looked down. “You look older.”

“I do?” Akaashi asked in disbelief. “Don’t lie.”

“I would never!” Bokuto exclaimed. “It is true. Your cheeks used to be so chubby and your arms were like twigs.” 

Akaashi laughed. He didn’t look at himself often aside from the occasional glance in the river. “We’ve both matured, I believe. But you look far more like a man that I.”

“How so?”

With a small grunt, Akaashi sat up so they sat face to face. He squinted, pretending to study Bokuto like he didn’t already know what he was going to say. “Your face is wider. Stronger.” He tilted his head to the side. “Your nose too. It is powerful.”

“What else?”

“This too.” Akaashi touched the bulge of his adam’s apple. “It’s emerged. You are strong everywhere.”

Bokuto shook his head, laughing. “You exaggerate.”

“Perhaps.” Akaashi leaned back on his palms. “What about me? What else has changed?”

Bokuto took a moment to think, eyes narrowed and fingers rubbing his chin. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Your eyes grow sharper everyday.” This was not what Akaashi expected to hear. “They appear wise, which… I guess they are. You always pay better attention in Chiron’s lessons than me.”

“Is that all?”

“No, I don't think so.” Bokuto closed the already small gap between them. They could feel their breaths on each other’s bodies, warm and familiar. It was summer and they were naked like they tended to be. Bokuto touched his collarbones and Akaashi couldn’t stifle a gasp in time. “If everything about me is strong, everything about you is sharp.” He touched his hip bones next. “It's beautiful.”

“Beautiful?”

“Beautiful.”

The manner in which Boktuo talked never made sense to Akaashi. He was always strangely affectionate in a way that meant even the most intimate of touches or words were nothing special to the prince. He complimented Akaashi like it was nothing and laughed when he got flustered. Even now, Akaashi didn’t know what reaction was expected. 

“You can say ‘thank you’.”

Akaashi scoffed. _“Thank you.”_

“You are welcome.”

Bokuto kissed him next, pressing his lips right against his in a movement that was anything but quick and chaste. Akaashi sat surprised for a second before melting into it. He waited for this day ever since the one on the beach, the one that he thought ruined everything. 

“B… Bokuto,” he whispered, their lips moving against each other’s. 

“Don’t speak.” Bokuto wrapped his fingers around the back of Akaashi’s neck and pulled him down. “Don’t think.”

“... okay.”

It was easy to slip out of his own head, focusing only on the softness of Bokuto’s lips and the agility of his fingers. For once, he didn’t want to think about anything else but the present. Neither the past or the future mattered. Only Bokuto. Only Bokuto’s presence and the warmth of the blood flowing beneath his skin. 

They were alive. They were young. 

He forgot his youth so many times, but was only able to remember it in Bokuto’s light. 

When they finally pulled apart, their skin was slick with sweat. “We should bathe,” Akaashi said in a voice that was hoarse. _So Chiron does not catch us in such a way._

Bokuto nodded, standing and pulling Akaashi up by his hands. They ran with the wind and jumped with abandon. 

The clamor of hooves soon reminded them that they were not alone in this world, and their laughter came to a halt as Chiron came into view. “Is something the matter?” Akaashi asked, noticing the slight disarray of his appearance. 

“Dry up and get dressed. Your father has requested your presence.”

Bokuto and Akaashi exchanged glances before stumbling out of the river. Chiron let them on his back so they could return to the cave faster. They dressed in urgency because in all the years on the mountain, Hironori never asked them to come down. 

“Do you know why?” Bokuto asked as they stood at the opening of the cave.

“I am not sure of the specifics, but…” Chiron exhaled deeply, like what he was about to say pained him physically. “The Kingdom of Karasuno has declared war on Date. And we have, unfortunately, all been caught in the crossfire.”

War?

_War?_

Akaashi’s heart sunk into his stomach. Not now. Not yet.

“So I'm being called down to fight?”

Chiron shook his head. “I do not know, Koutarou. Karasuno has requested your father’s assistance, but he is still yet to accept.” He put his hands on both their shoulders and squeezed. “But whatever happens, know that you are ready, and you have nothing to fear.” Locking his eyes with Bokuto specifically, he offered a smile. “You have always known who you are going to be. The _greatest_ warrior of this generation.”

Bokuto’s lips pursed. “I know, but--”

“Do not worry. Do not fear either, my boy. It is time to let the word know your name.”

The prince licked his lips and then slowly started to nod his head. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay, okay, okay. Thank… thank you.”

“It is not a problem.” Chiron grinned. “I pray the three of us will meet again.”

Bokuto and Akaashi slung an arm over Chiron’s neck and he bent down to allow them to do so easier. Though they left it unsaid, they all knew that once Bokuto and Akaashi left, they would never return. It was the end of an era, the beginning of something new.

They all knew this day was coming, but Akaashi had prayed it would not come so soon.

It was his first mistake to put so much trust in the gods.


	5. ships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i changed seijoh to date bcuz,,, walls n i think im clever. also i know a lot of versions of the trojan war story has helen going to troy voluntarily, but i thought this way would be easier to write, even if i dont rlly prefer it. 
> 
> and as far as akaashi fighting in here even though patroclus doesnt, i changed that cuz i thought it would fit bokuaka's dynamic better.
> 
> thats it, thank u n i hope u enjoy this chapter!!

There was a story, one far more famous than that of Hironori and Thetis, of Zeus and a mortal princess. The King of the Gods himself was smitten with this woman from the moment he saw her, mesmerized by her long, ebony hair and milky white skin. To hide his adulterous deeds from the eyes of his jealous wife, he took the form of a swan and planted his seed in the belly of the princess. The stories do not clarify whether she welcomed him between her legs or not, but not many seemed to care.

The Gods took what they wanted.

And that baby, desired or not, was named Kiyoko Shimizu, and she was the most beautiful woman who ever lived.

… according to the stories, at least.

Her hair and skin took after her mother, but her beauty and grace was anything but human. Princes from all around the land heard of her and traveled miles, dared any feat, and battled the worst of monsters to ask for her hand.

But she was incredibly picky. Smiling a pretty smile even as she repeated rejection after rejection. Though she was a woman and though her opinion on such matters wasn’t normally held in high esteem, her father—by only relation—allowed it. Kiyoko was a product of his wife’s unfaithfulness, but she was a godblood nevertheless. She was precious and just her existence was powerful. He refused to marry her off to any man that asked, especially if it meant her unhappiness.

Even as the years passed, no one gave up, but Kiyoko gave no demigod, King, or prince the time of day. 

All except one.

King Ryunosuke Tanaka of Karasuno. He was a renowned warrior of a moderately rich kingdom, but Kiyoko liked, most of all, that he was human. He didn’t pretend to be something he was not, and she was tired of men who spoke endlessly of their great deeds to try and impress her. Tanaka barely acted as a King around her. In his company, she was the girl she was. Not a princess, not a godblood. Just a girl.

Unfortunately, their marriage was not enough to discourage her hundreds of other suitors.

One day, Tanaka left Karasuno to attend to his kingly duties, and when he returned, Kiyoko was gone. The servants were frantic and the soldiers swore on their honor that they hadn’t even noticed her absence. She never even left her quarters.

The only eyebrow raising anomaly? Prince Kenji Futakuchi, sixth prince of Date, the one that had been staying as a guest and as a friend, was nowhere to be seen as well. 

So, naturally, war was declared.

Akaashi could barely believe his ears as Hironori rolled out the story before them. These men were so _temperamental._ They were going to draw thousands of men from kingdoms all across the land for _this?_ He understood the bruised ego, the moral wrongness of taking a woman from her home, but _war?_

Bokuto was quiet. Akaashi knew he was thinking the same thing. When they accepted that a gruesome war would bring about his destiny, they had hoped it would at least be something they were willing to fight for. “What are we going to do?” he asked finally, voice low and gruff. 

Hironori sighed, massaging his temples. “I fear that I cannot put off Fukurodani’s involvement any longer.”

“But father--”

“Karasuno is a friend of ours, Koutarou. I know you have learned nothing of politics with Chiron, but you are a man now, and things like this are not as simple as swinging a sword.” Bokuto’s face turned dark. He looked away from his father and stared at the ground, silently seething. “There is as much to be gained as there is to be lost. Whether or not you fight for King Tanaka, the taking of Date and the triumph over their impenetrable walls will bring you honor greater than mine. Greater than any other hero.”

Bokuto still said nothing. Hironori’s lips turned into a thin line.

“You knew this day was coming--”

“There will be other wars,” Bokuto said suddenly. “I will not fight this one.”

“That decision does not belong to you.” Hironori’s voice was stern, like a father’s should be. It still raised the hairs on the back of Akaashi’s neck. “Whether you like it or not, thousands of our men are going to march to Date’s shores. As their prince, it is your duty to lead them.”

“It's your duty as their king to protect these same men, but you will send them to their death for a _woman?_ ”

“Her majesty Kiyoko is not just a woman, Koutarou. She is a wife, a queen, a godblood, and a symbol of Karasuno’s strength.” Hironori looked older than Akaashi remembered. His wrinkles were plentiful and his hair was completely grey. It had been over five years, and the King was no young man when they left. Akaashi heard the exhaustion in his voice and saw it in every slowed movement. He seemed almost too frail to argue. “You do not understand these things because I have been too easy on you, but no more. Your days on the beach thinking of nothing more than your sunburn with Akaashi are over.”

With a deafening crash, Bokuto’s chair fell against the floor. He stood for a moment or two, fists clenched impossibly tight at his sides, before storming from the study. Akaashi almost got up to follow him when Hironori called his name.

“Akaashi… you understand, do you not?”

“I guess.”

Hironori sighed deeply. “Did you two really think you would be boys forever?”

“It seemed as such at times, your majesty.” Akaashi held his elbow. He was never alone with Hironori for this long, not since their first meeting. “Were you ready to be a man as soon as you stopped being a boy?”

“We are not always given a choice, son.” Hironori stood. “The Fates do not sit around and wait for us to grow. We grow when we first accept that comfort and happiness and fairness are not guaranteed things.” He came to stand on the other side of his desk, putting himself closer to Akaashi than he had ever been. “Do you plan on fighting?”

“If I must.”

“If you go, Koutarou will follow quickly.” Akaashi didn’t like that at all. The last thing he wanted was to be the reason Bokuto put himself into harm’s way. “Do you want him to be great? To be remembered for centuries and centuries to come?”

“Of course,” he answered softly. “Of course I do, but--”

“But you want him to be happy?” Hironori shook his head. “He cannot have both.”

“And why not?” It was frustrating to hear such things from Bokuto’s father. Did Hironori not love him? Weren’t fathers supposed to wish for their son’s to have long, healthy lives? These were things Akaashi’s father would’ve said to him, pushing him to a war for nothing because he couldn’t care less whether he lived or died. “Why can he not be happy? He deserves it just like any other boy!”

“Akaashi… I should not have to remind you that Koutarou is not any other boy. Now answer my question. No buts.” He paused. “Do you want Bokuto to be great?”

He released a shaky breath, unease coursing through his entire body. “Y… Y-Yes. I presume… I presume that I do.” It was what he was born for, after all. No one could wield a sword like Bokuto, Akaashi knew this first hand. His skills were unmatched in everything and any army with him on its side would surely never lose. 

This was what Bokuto was _born_ for. It was written in his stars, engraved in his thread, and Akaashi so desperately wanted for the world to chant his name… but not at the cost of his young life. He found it strange, how often he looked at Bokuto and saw a hero, but now that the time had come, he wasn’t ready. Akaashi knew Bokuto wasn’t either because fighting each other under Chiron’s gaze and instruction was one thing… the battlefield was another.

“That is good enough for me.” Hironori rested his hand on Akaashi’s shoulder and locked their eyes. He didn’t care for the tears welling in Akaashi’s or the trembling beneath his touch. “Make sure Koutarou understands as well. King Tanaka would like for us to move out as quickly as possible.”

♕

Akaashi made his way back to Bokuto’s room, and though it had been many years, he remembered every twist and turn. He stopped outside the door, wiping his sweaty palms on his tunic. This was a great responsibility that Hironori settled upon his shoulders, and he hoped the King knew how unrealistic his success would be. 

He breathed in deeply to try and calm his nerves, but froze when a familiar scent touched his nose.

… _salt._

Akaashi stifled a gasp behind his hands. Thetis was here. In Bokuto’s room. His feet were cemented to the ground. He was sure that to enter would be a mistake, but what would he do in the meantime? 

As his thoughts ran, the door in front of him creaked open. “Akaashi?” Bokuto greeted. “I thought I heard you approaching. What are you doing standing out here?”

“Y-Your mother--”

“She just left.” He moved to the side. “Come in.”

Akaashi swallowed thickly, thoroughly relieved. “What did she say?”

“She does not wish for me to fight.”

_“What?”_

“She insisted that I come with her, somewhere far away from this all. I refused.”

“But… b-but--” Akaashi closed his mouth so he could take a second to gather his scattered mind. “It was her wish in the first place for you to be a hero.”

“Her wish is for me to be a god. To be with her. I thought the quickest path was to become a hero, but maybe she found a new way.” He shrugged. “She would not elaborate.”

“So what happens now?”

Bokuto’s small smile fell and he fell onto his bed. “I have not one idea.”

“Your father wants you to fight.”

“I am aware.”

“You are going to have to choose.”

“I am aware of that as well.”

“Do you--”

“For gods’ sake, Akaashi!” Bokuto sat up abruptly, hurling a heavy pillow in his direction. Akaashi barely saw it coming before it whacked him in the face. “Does it sound like I know? Like I have any sort of plan?”

Akaashi held the pillow close to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Bokuto looked at him and his gaze softened. “No,” he sighed. “No. Its okay. I know my father most likely tasked you with convincing me to ride out with his men.”

“Am I so easy to read?”

“Easier than a child’s book, Akaashi,” Bokuto chuckled. “Do you want to know my truth? Tanaka knew of the envy his wife spread across the land, yet he left her alone with a stranger prince that spoke sweet words.” Akaashi settled in the bed beside him, resting his head on Bokuto’s lap. “I have no interest in aiding a man so careless. I have no interest in laying down my life for him either. But…”

Akaashi didn’t want to hear the ‘but’. He wanted that to be the end of it. This was never a day he thought would come, but he wished for Thetis to get her way.

“But is this not what I have worked for? Trained for? Slaved away for seventeen years of my life for?” Bokuto’s breathing was heavy and his cheeks were tinged with pink. “Neither Theseus or Heracles chose their battles. And who is to say another war will come when I am capable of fighting it?”

“What are you saying?”

Bokuto bit his bottom lip. “I believe it's my time. I will fight.” 

“Ah.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Akaashi lifted his head and moved close to Bokuto, their breaths touching. “What do you want to hear from me?” He felt the prince’s jawline with his light fingertips. “I will say it. Tell me and I will say it.”

Bokuto pointed his chin and their lips brushed ever so slightly. “Tell me… tell me that I will gain more than I will lose in this war.”

“This war will make you great,” Akaashi murmured, kissing Bokuto’s lips gently and chastely. He already missed Chiron’s mountains and the safety of his cave. There wasn’t a guarantee he’d be as free to kiss Bokuto as he was there ever again so he treasured this very moment though the lingering smell of Thetis made it difficult. “As your father said, Kiyoko is no simple woman. Thousands of men will travel to the shores of Date to bring her home, but you will be their only champion.”

“Akaashi…”

“And I will be by your side for every moment.” He moved his thumb to touch the delicate skin beneath Bokuto’s golden eyes. It was wet with silent tears so he kissed them as well. Bokuto laughed breathily, holding Akaashi’s waist. “Because if this is what you want, so do I.”

Bokuto smiled and Akaashi thought he was the most beautiful person to ever live. He had never seen Kiyoko, only heard the stories, but he was sure she would be unable to compete with Bokuto.

“Can you make me one promise?”

Bokuto nodded.

“When its all over, we have to both come back.”

“Of course!” Bokuto said, laughing like it was an obvious thing. “I don't plan on living a short life.”

They kissed, longer and deeper this time, and Akaashi couldn’t stop grinning. He had no idea what he was so worried about in the first place… there wouldn’t be one person on the battlefield that could defeat Bokuto. Even if they were a man and Bokuto just started being one. He was stronger than them, stronger than everyone. With valiance and grace he will fight, and in a couple of years they will return home, Bokuto, a hero, and Akaashi, the hero’s right hand man.

It sounded quite like a dream come true. 

♕

If Thetis heard that her son made the decision disregard her, she didn’t show it. Even as Akaashi and Bokuto waited by the docks of the ships, surrounded by the extensions of her domain, she was nowhere to be seen. But her absence was as strange as it was unnerving, like she was waiting for the moment they both let their guard down to snatch Bokuto away. 

“Maybe the sheer amount of mortals is keeping her away,” Akaashi murmured in a voice loud enough to reach Bokuto over the clamor. 

“She _has_ never liked your kind’s smell.”

“We have a smell?”

Bokuto smirked. “Of sorts.”

“Oh, the things I will never understand.” Akaashi adjusted the bag of his close belongings on his shoulder. It was just a few tunics, a dagger, and some food for the journey over. Everything big they would need--swords, armor, and assorted weapons--were getting stored on the ship or already in the camp on Date. “But I don't believe she is the type to let us keep her from what she wants.”

“You’re right… she's not.” Bokuto shrugged. “All we can do is wait and hope she does not decide to disrupt our voyage.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened. “That is not a funny joke.”

“You can swim,” Bokuto said with a smile.

“I don't have a goddess of a mother to save me from the depths of the ocean, though.” Akaashi jabbed his elbow into the prince’s side. “And think of all that Fukurodani is losing if that ship goes under.”

“It's okay to laugh sometimes, ‘Kaashi.” Bokuto placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get on the ship already.”

“I would rather not, now.”

“And risk leaving my side? You would not dare.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes and Bokuto laughed. The latter then grabbed his wrist, pulling him along the cobblestone towards the ship. It was a horrible maze of bodies that they had to navigate through. Nekoma, a small neighboring Fukurodani, was joining the war as well. They were combining their forces, increasing their already great numbers by thousands.

It would prove beneficial on the battlefield, but was pure chaos in such a small area. 

They walked up the ramp of the ship Hironori pointed out before their goodbye. People eyed them oddly at first, perhaps singling them out because of their young appearance, but it was impossible to look at Bokuto’s dual colored hair, tied in a ponytail over his shoulder, and golden eyes and not see a godblood. No one gave them any trouble as they leaned against the railing.

The ship as a whole was grand and giant. Everything had a new glow--the ropes, the rich wood, and the sails. Akaashi had never seen anything so big. His eyes must’ve been as wide as a child’s because when he finally looked at Bokuto, the other was snickering under his hand. 

“What could possibly be so funny?”

“It's like you have never been on a ship.”

“Not one like this.” Akaashi wouldn’t let his teasing ruin the novelty of all this. “Even on the way here from Alynthi.”

“War ships are different things.” Bokuto patted the railing. “I have seen plenty, but never been on one. I guess I can admit that it's pretty impressive.”

“That would be an understatement, if I have ever heard one.”

“Well--”

“Do my eyes deceive me?”

A loud voice overpowered Bokuto’s, and Akaashi’s eyes went to a spiky, short haired male walking their way. He was trailed by a shorter blond, but that one’s attention seemed to be elsewhere.

“A friend?” Akaashi asked softly.

“Not one I remember.” Bokuto turned completely, facing the two newcomers. “Hello!”

“Ah… you don’t remember me, do you, your highness?” The man came to a stop a comfortable distance away. His expression was sheepish, but not completely deterred. “No problem, it has been a few years. General Tetsuro Kuroo. Nekoma.” He held out his hand. “We met when we were children.”

“Oh.” Bokuto shook his hand. “I apologize, my memory has never been great. It’s nice to meet you, and I’m sure it was just as nice the first time as well.” He moved to the side ever so slightly. “This is Akaashi, my closest companion.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” They shook hands next. Tetsuro’s hands were calloused and large, and seeing as he was a General, Akaashi had no idea why he was so surprised.

“Likewise.”

“This here is Kenma Kozume.” He placed that large hand on the blond’s head, and Kenma’s frown deepened incredibly so. “He may look small, but he’s one hell of a fighter.”

“Ah.” They went through the polite greetings again, but Kenma never met their eyes, and his voice remained almost too quiet to hear.

“I can’t wait to fight at your sides.” Bokuto’s regal voice was always such a gift to hear, and it was Akaashi’s turn to hide his laugh beneath his hand. “

They talked for some time and Bokuto eventually remembered the details of their first meeting. It was a political meeting, apparently, and Tetsuro’s father was an esteemed General of Nekoma’s army. As boys, neither Tetsuro of Bokuto cared too much for the purpose of the days so they spent time playing in the sun together and never spoke again after.

Friendship reignited quickly between them, and Akaashi forgot Bokuto could laugh in such ways with people that weren’t him. By the end of the conversation, Tetsuro was calling Bokuto ‘Koutarou’ as it was what he was asked to do. It put Akaashi in a sour mood until it was night and he was unable to slip. 

He slipped out of his cot and into the cool, refreshing air. It smelled overwhelmingly like Thetis but that was the least of his worries. Akaashi crept out onto the empty deck and bent over the railing. He watched the dark waters flow, steady and calm.

Akaashi knew it was petty, he knew it didn’t matter, but why did everyone get to call Bokuto by a familiar name besides him? He assumed he would’ve earned that right by now…

“What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking.” Akaashi tried not to move as Bokuto came to rest beside him. “How’d you wake up?”

“Something felt off.” Bokuto gently shoved him to the side. “And _you’ve_ been off for some time now, so… what happened?”

“It’s stupid…”

“Like such things are new to me,” Bokuto scoffed. “Let’s hear it.”

Akaashi bit his bottom lip. They were on their way to the shores of a brutal and ongoing war… he may as well get small issues like this out of the way. “Why… why do I not call you by your name?”

“Do you wish to?”

“That’s not the problem.” Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he knew some way to put this that didn’t sound stupid. “You still have never asked me to… why?”

Bokuto crossed his arms over the railing, his head lowered and shoulders hunched. “To kings and gods and soldiers, I am Koutarou. To you… to you I’d like to be someone else.” Akaashi blinked, unsure how to process that. “It’s not a bad thing, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Akaashi laughed breathily, a little embarrassed. Now that he knew the reason, it seemed terribly stupid. “That’s better than anything I could’ve come up with.”

“Hmm.” Bokuto’s smile was cocky. “We kissed for hours yesterday among… other things… and you chose to worry about what name you refer to me by?”

“Don’t laugh!” Akaashi pushed his shoulder, cheeks getting warm. “You’re the one that never cared to explain.”

“You never asked!”

Akaashi threw his head back and sighed. “Now I feel like a fool.”

“Don’t worry too much about it. If you’d like to call me Koutarou, I have no objections.”

“No…” Akaashi didn’t even want to know how red his face had to be burning. “No, I feel better now that I know.”

“Fine by me,” Bokuto said with a wide grin. “Shall we head back in now?”

“Maybe in a second. I like the fresh air.”

“Alright. I’ll wait.” Though they spent the next few moments in silence, it was soft and pleasant. Today had been far too nosy. Even the sleeping quarters were filled with restless sleepers and snorers. Life wasn’t going to be just the two of them very often anymore… they’d take all the chances they were given. 

And yes, everything was good, until it no longer was.

The air changed in split second, and Akaashi instantly regretted not going inside when Bokuto first suggested. In front of them, Thetis arose from the water, large and imposing. Her bottom half remained in the ocean, but just her upper body was enough to tower over the ship.

“You have been a man for a handful of days, and you are already defying me?”

Bokuto glanced at Akaashi before he even thought of answering her. “Akaashi--”

“He stays, and he will listen,” Thetis growled. “Now, what odd act of rebellion is this?”

“I don’t aim to defy you, mother. I must fight this war.”

“Says who?”

Bokuto scowled. “... me.”

“What was that?”

“Me!” Bokuto exclaimed. Akaashi jumped, not expecting the volume. “I say that I will fight this war! How am I supposed to ever achieve my destiny if I sit around waiting for the _‘best’_ opportunity?”

Thetis’s eyes narrowed into slits and darted quickly to Akaashi. “You taught him this insolence.”

“Mother--”

“Quiet!” She held her hand out in front of Bokuto’s face without moving her own. “This is all you,” she hissed with copious amounts of venom, her finger pointing at Akaashi’s chest. “You have been nothing but a toxic, horrible example on him since you two met. I have half the mind to get rid of you once and for all.”

“Mother!” Bokuto bellowed, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “You go too far! How do you always forget that I am my own person? If I wish to fight this war, you can’t do anything to stop me.”

Thetis’s stare was stone cold. “Are you confident in your ability to return home after all this?”

It was a terrible question, and the voice she asked it in sent shivers down Akaashi’s spine. Bokuto’s face showed no fear, but veins were bulging from his neck. “Should I not be?”

“I decided to keep this from you because I assumed my word would be enough for my own son, but the Fates have given a new prophecy. They have decreed that if you fight this war, you will not return home.”

Akaashi gasped. His blood went cold and the hairs on his arms stood straight up.

No.

_No._

That couldn’t be true. That wasn’t _right._

“And even I cannot make a dead man a god,” she snarled. “There will be _other. wars.”_

“But is this not the one that will make me great?”

“Bokuto?!” Akaashi screeched, and for once, Thetis didn’t stop him speaking. “Did you not hear her? You can’t fight this war. You’ll die!”

Bokuto frowned. “Is there anything else you can tell us?” he asked her.

Thetis gritted her teeth. “Even death cannot scare you?” He shook his head. “If you go… if you fight… Takanobu Aone’s death will come first.”

_Takanobu Aone?_

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” Thetis whispered. “Do not tell me I did not warn you.” 

Then she disappeared back into the ocean, leaving behind nothing but the smell of despair in the air. 


	6. camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry for the wait. i hope this makes up for it :)

“You must not kill Aone.”

Bokuto glanced up at Akaashi through his lashes and sighed. “Must we speak of this now?”

“Are you open to any other time?”

Bokuto’s lips pursed. He shrugged eventually, taking a sip from the cup of water in front of him. His breakfast remained untouched apart from a few bites, and though Akaashi felt small amounts of guilt in distracting him from eating, they needed to talk about this. Everytime he tried since they last saw Thetis, Bokuto shut him down. 

It was now two mornings later, and Akaashi felt as if he would explode if he kept these words in any longer.

“You must not kill him,” he repeated.

“What do you hope to accomplish?”

“I hope to bring you home… have you already forgotten what you promised me?” Every now and then, Akaashi took a quick look around the mess hall, just to make sure their whispers weren’t being overheard. The men seemed to be occupied with their own things, scarfing down their morning rations and complaining loudly about how much they missed their wives. “You said we would sail home together.”

Exhaling slowly, Bokuto shook his head. “Things have changed,” he said in a small voice.

“You’ve accepted death?”

“I’ve accepted my  _ fate. _ ” He pushed his porridge around with his spoon, and Akaashi winced. Bokuto had spoken about his hunger just minutes ago. “This is a war. Who can say if I will even be the one to kill Aone?”

“Of course we cannot know,” Akaashi hissed. “But we can do all that we can to prolong your time. Perhaps prolong it long enough until both you and Aone were able to live nice and fulfilling lives.”

Bokuto laughed. Laughed  _ at  _ him. “For the mature one between us, you can be such a child sometimes.”

Akaashi clucked his tongue. “There is nothing childish in having hope.” He reached across the table and grabbed Bokuto’s hand. “Now tell me, tell me you won’t kill Aone.”

For a moment, Bokuto didn’t speak. He looked at where their hands intertwined, the contrast of his olive skin against Akaashi’s pale, pinkish tones. He bit his lip then crossed his legs and uncrossed them again. “Alright,” he eventually said, but in a tone that seemed to pain him physically. 

Akaashi smiled. “Good.”

“Why would I, anyway?” Bokuto liked it when Akaashi smiled like that. It was the kind of smile he wore when he took the time to forget himself and find peace in the present. “He’s done nothing to me.”

Akaashi knew he added on those last parts for him. They were overkill, exaggerated, but he couldn’t appreciate it more. Thetis might’ve tried to discourage the completion of their voyage to Date, but she gave them more than they could ever ask for, instead. They had something to work around, over, and under. A way to fight this war and return to Fukurodani, to Hironori and Chiron and the kind people in the marketplace who always greeted them as they walked by. 

Just as Akaashi was looking down at his cooled bowl of food and about to remind Bokuto to continue eating as well, a body planted itself beside Bokuto. Akaashi flinched, but of course Bokuto stayed still, having sensed someone approaching from behind already. 

“Good morning!” Tetsuro greeted enthusiastically.

They took turns saying it back, and Bokuto asked if he’d already eaten.

“Yeah, Kenma wanted to avoid the crowds so we woke up early.” He swung an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders, and Akaashi remembered how close they’d become the past few days. If Bokuto wasn’t with Akaashi, either just lazing around or sparring on the deck, he was with Tetsuro. They sparred sometimes too and he pretended that it didn’t bother him. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Ah, nothing much, I suppose. We’re supposed to land tomorrow, correct?”

“Through the gods’ will, yes.”

“Well maybe it’s as good of a time as any to ask you of the other kings and generals we will be meeting… assuming you know, of course.”

Tetsuro’s mouth formed a small ‘o’. “Makin’ me brush up on my knowledge so early, huh?” His eyes rolled up into his head in thought. “There is Tanaka, obviously. He’s known to be a free spirit, almost crazed to some. But all in all, he is a mighty warrior, and he has shown nothing but determination in retrieving Kiyoko from Date.”

He rambled on about known fighters that they would be joining.Yu Nishinoya, Shoyo Hinata, Daichi Sawamura, and… the rest of the names blended into each other as they went on. Akaashi’s heads floated into the clouds until Bokuto spoke again, his voice bringing him down to the ground.

“What about Date?”

“Oh, that’s a bit tougher.” Tetsuro took his arm off Bokuto and used it to prop his chin up. “There’s King Oiwake, and he’s got more sons than I can even think to name. But there are some that are more famous than the others. Kenji, the man of the hour, has always been quite known for his beauty. Aphrodite herself is said to have taken a liking to him.”

“And Aone?”

Akaashi held his breath. He hoped Tetsuro would go on to tell a story about Aone being a clumsy and bird boned, perhaps even scorned by the gods in comparison to his brother. He knew that was foolish thinking, though.

“Ah, the favored son, by both King Oiwake  _ and  _ Apollo. Date’s Mightiest Defender.”

Akaashi gulped, suddenly sick to his stomach.

“What does he look like?” asked Bokuto.

“Large, I think. Pale haired. I don’t really know much else, but I heard it’s impossible to mistake him upon first sight.” He clapped Bokuto’s shoulder. “You’ll have to tell me more once we reach shore.”

“Why me?”

“Why you?” Tetsuro repeated, chuckling like it was obvious. “Well I may consider myself a skilled warrior, but you’re the only one that will be able to face Aone and live to tell of the encounter.” He nudged Bokuto’s ribs. “Don’t worry too much, though, there’s incredible fame to be earned from being the one to kill the mighty Aone.”

Akaashi’s skin went cold, and he could no longer take it. He rushed from his seat and didn’t turn when Bokuto called out his name. He felt sick and sad and angry and worried and too many other things at once. To think they weren’t even settled in camp, they haven’t even seen the battlefield, and it was already too much for him.

He bent over the railing, now outside the mess hall and in the wide open deck. Akaashi was glad to find it empty, apart from a few crew members a good distance away. He didn’t want too much of an audience as he sent what little breakfast he had down the side of the ship.

“These years will be long if such things are all it takes to disturb you.”

Wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, Akaashi straightened. He could barely stand to look at Bokuto, ashamed of his childish reactions.

“I know…”

“Tetsuro apologized. He said he didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Good gods,” Akaashi groaned, clasping his hands against his face. “I didn’t mean to make him feel as if he said something wrong. I just… I don’t--I don’t know how to stop caring so much.”

“Is it not enough that  _ I  _ don’t care?”

Akaashi scoffed. “You’ve never been too smart.”

“Ouch,” Bokuto said, laughing lightly. “Even so… I think I know the appropriate times to worry about my own life.” He placed his hand over Akaashi’s, his touch warm and familiar. “We can avoid Aone as much as we want, but there’s not much else we can do except go down the paths the Fates take us.”

“I suppose.”

“We must talk of other things,” Bokuto said softly. “I… I feel like we’ve exhausted this enough.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I’m not sure.”

“We… we can just be quiet?”

“Mhm,” Bokuto hummed. “Fine by me.”

So they sealed their lips and continued to stand. Akaashi let his eyes fall shut, absorbing the salt in the air around him and the wind blowing his hair off his forehead. He welcomed the noise of the ship’s crew as white noise, and the tension slowly slipped from his shoulders. 

“We should be quiet more often,” Bokuto whispered.

Akaashi opened his eyes and looked at him, studying the angular slopes of his face. He smiled. “I agree.”

♕

The ships arrived on the shores of Date. One glance over the horizon, and their infamous and impenetrable walls were in view. In a few hours time, they would find themselves at the base, bloodied and bludgeoned, but for now… Bokuto would finally make acquaintance with Tanaka and the rest of the large names they heard of endlessly. He was nervous, Akaashi could tell, but he hid it well beneath loud laughter and face splitting smiles. Tetsuro and Kenma were none the wiser.

Camp was massive, like a small bustling village consisting of only men and their spears. Some sat around extinguished fires, talking about things men liked. Women, war, and glory. Others were in their tents, feasting. It was nothing he expected from thousands of men on their way to die gruesome, bloody deaths.

They were greeted with cheers as soon as they docked, loud and boisterous. Men in close proximity came running and began greeting people coming off as close friends. Bokuto had no one like that waiting for him, but there were whispers of his name anyway.

The fabled godblood, the best of all of them. Tall, strong, and terribly handsome.

Akaashi knew Bokuto could hear them by the way he pointed his chin and squared his shoulders. He liked the attention, like always. He got that from his mother. Akaashi, on the other hand, felt the gazes that strayed ever so slightly from Bokuto fall onto him, and didn’t adore it in any way. His skin crawled and itched.

These were not the Fukurodani townspeople or the noble children of the palace. They were warriors, and though they fought for the same side, they were not looking to make friends. He knew that even though there was admiration as they stared at Bokuto, there was jealousy as well. All of them were to put down their lives, but it was this young boy who had barely seen two decades who would gain glory and fame.

And through nothing but luck and chance alone, Akaashi--a boy as normal as the rest of them--ended up at his side.

Kuroo led the way into a large, white tent. They weren’t followed by the majority of the passengers that they sailed with. Just the generals and nobles. “What is this?” he asked into Bokuto’s ear.

“Zeus knows.”

Inside the tent, there were other men. They sat at a long horizontal table overflowing with food, and at the first sight of movement, a man that sat in the middle rose swiftly to his feet. His hair was cropped close to his head, like he’d shaven it some time ago but had no recent time to take care of it. “Prince Koutarou!” In his hand was a chalice of what Akaashi didn’t have to be a genius to know was wine. The smell of it was everywhere, hanging above their heads like perfumed clouds. It showed as well on the man’s wide, carefree smile. 

Akaashi didn’t want to believe it, but all the signs pointed to this man--this drunken, smiling, mess of a man--bring King Tanaka. The man they were all there for.

It seemed Bokuto was yet to catch on, his face blank, so Akaashi spoke the name softly in his ear.

_ ‘Oh,’  _ his expression read. “King Tanaka.” He bent his body, not too much, just enough to show respect. Before they departed from Fukurodani, Hironori walked them through the important first steps of meeting the other kings and princes. They were all aware of how desperately they needed Bokuto, but they’d try and take advantage of his youth, anyway. It was key to cement the fact that their age did not equal their strength from the first moments. 

The tent that was just filled with laughter and joy was now silent, waiting for one of the two most important men to speak. 

“I have come to offer my aid as well as that of Fukurodani and Nekoma’s to your cause.” When it was painfully obvious that his sentence was over with, the room of esteemed soldiers and royalty cheered. Tanaka didn’t participate, but his wide smile was yet to falter. “And I am honored to fight alongside all of you esteemed warriors.” He caught his neck falling and lifted it. “I will bring you victory.”

At that, the corners of Tanaka’s lips twitched. Whatever uncertainty that represented, it was overshadowed by the roars of celebration that followed. For men dragged into a war they didn’t want to fight, Bokuto’s statement was a relief. To a man whose wife was stolen from his home, it was competition.

But Akaashi felt no pity. If it was the sole spotlight that Tanaka wanted in retrieving his wife, he should’ve known better than to call upon Fukurodani and her godblood prince.

“Very well then.” Tanaka set his glass down on the table. “It is my honor to welcome you to the finest army this world has ever seen.” He smirked. “It remains a pity that you were so slow to come.”

Akaashi inhaled sharply. This must’ve been what happens when two egos as big as Bokuto and Tanaka’s collided.

He wrapped his fingers over Bokuto’s arms, hoping to rein him back. He’d shown Tanaka his strength as well as the support he had from people who never even met him before. That was enough for the night.

Tanaka invited them to the table.

“Tomorrow morning, we bring Date to her knees,” he said in a loud voice that commanded the room. “But for now; eat, drink, and be happy!”

♕

Akaashi went to bed that night in a tent as large as the room he shared with Bokuto back home with a full stomach, light head, and the prince’s hands on his waist. He awoke on an empty pallet, though, and to the sound of clinking armor. Recognizing all the things that could mean, he sprang up, eyes wide and senses on high alert.

“Bokuto?”

“Good morning,” he answered right away, calm and cool. 

Akaashi rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and Bokuto came into focus a couple feet away from him, fumbling with the straps of his golden armor. The golden armor fixed for him by Thetis. It was his first time seeing it in its full glory, and he wished he could enjoy the sight if not for the fact that Bokuto had his breastplates on backwards.

“Oh Bokuto…” he clucked his tongue, stepping from the pallet and pulling his tunic over his head. “Let me help you.”

“It isn’t as easy as it looks,” grumbled Bokuto.

“I’m sure.” Akaashi took all the plates off his body, planning on starting from scratch. “Are you just trying it on? It can’t be time for us to go already, I wasn’t sleeping for that long.”

“Kuroo came to wake me earlier… I let you sleep.” Bokuto wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We are moving out soon.”

Akaashi’s jaw dropped to his toes. “ _ What? _ B-Bokuto! Why didn’t you tell me? I have to--”

“You’re not coming with.”

_ “Excuse me?” _

Bokuto frowned. “It’s… it’s not an official battle, or whatever. Tanaka and his strategists agreed; we must first start the war before we go for the walls.” He paused. “And that is done through raids.”

“Raids?”

“Yes. It is a show of strength… apparently.” He looked at the breast plate and pieces of leather still laying in Akaashi’s arms. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

Akaashi sometimes wondered what he’d be capable of if his heart didn’t belong to Bokuto because the levels of anger the latter made him feel didn’t seem humanly possible. “What is one good reason that you chose not to wake me? I fight by your side, no matter what. That was part of our training.”

“When the war begins, of course you’ll be with me, but this… this is different.” He shrugged like Akaashi’s anger and confusion was foolish. “This is a raid. We’re going to a village. With families. Women and children. You won’t be able to handle it.”

“And what the hell makes you think that  _ you  _ will?”

“Truthfully? I don’t know.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth. “But I must learn sooner or later, no?”

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“But--”

“I’m trying to  _ help  _ you, Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaimed suddenly. “I’m sparing you from having to do something evil, and you want to stand here and  _ argue  _ with me? You should be thankful!”

“If I wanted a clear conscience,” Akaashi began, voice sharp and low. “I would’ve stayed in Fukurodani.”

“So that boy… the Alynthi boy whose skull you cracked open… you no longer see him in your nightmares?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Are you so eager to replace his face with that of another innocent?” Bokuto hissed. It was Akaashi’s turn to refuse to look at him.  _ “Well?  _ Are you?”

“You are cruel.”

“Good.”

Akaashi swallowed thickly, pushing down any arguments he had left inside him. Yet again, Bokuto knew his head better than he did, but he was still too angry to admit it. He wished he was allowed the chance to make the decision for himself. Bokuto should’ve woken him up so they could’ve attended Tanaka’s meeting together. Akaashi might’ve come to Date with no other motivation than to remain at the prince’s side, and that didn’t entail waiting in a tent all day to see if Bokuto returned from battle alive.

Silently, he tied the leather straps of the armor around Bokuto’s legs, arms, and torso. Every gap of flesh that each plate made had him wanting to cry, scream, and everything in between. It all left him too damn vulnerable.

“No one will be able to get within even a sword’s distance of me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Bokuto’s voice was sweet again, all of the darkness that laced it before was gone. He lifted Akaashi’s face with a hand around his cheek. “Have some faith in me, alright.”

“Alright,” Akaashi said. “As long as you promise to come back to me.”

“Of course.” Bokuto beamed ear to ear because in his head, it was a given thing. Perhaps it was, but Akaashi knew that it was in his blood to worry. 

Akaashi picked up the helmet, the last and crowning piece of his ensemble. He placed it on Bokuto’s head and the metal overtook all but small slivers of his face. Nevertheless, he could see the smile on his face. Sighing, he pressed his lips against the gold hanging between his eyes. “Do great.” He wouldn’t say ‘goodbye’. He refused to put that into the universe.

Bokuto nodded and in a blink, he was gone, and Akaashi was alone. 

♕

Whilst Bokuto and half the camp were gone, Akaashi didn’t remember when he fell asleep. He only recognized a familiar weight on his body dragging him from unconsciousness. It was Bokuto, smelling of sweat and copper.

Akaashi held him on top of his body, allowing him to bury his face into his chest. His armor, still tightly laced on his limbs, made him pounds heavier than normal, but it was nothing but a reminder that he was back in once piece. Safe. Akaashi welcomed it.

“How’d it go?”

“Five.”

“Hm?”

“I killed five people.” He was quiet, his words muffled by Akaashi’s tunic. “Farmers.” 

“Ah.”

“They were armed.”

“Okay.”

“Do you hate me?”

Akaashi scoffed as a reflex. “I could never.”

“... I hate me.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” Bokuto said, whining like a child. “It felt so right in the moment… they were coming at us with sickles and pitchforks but now that I think about it… they were only defending their homes. Their families.” 

“And you were worried that I couldn’t handle it.”

“Akaashi…”

Akaashi frowned. That was in bad taste. “Sorry.” He put his hand in Bokuto’s damp hair. “I know it is easy for me to say and that I wasn’t there, but this is a war, Bokuto. You did what you had to.” Justifying murder was strange on Akaashi’s tongue, but he knew he had to get used to it. Soon, he’d have to start saying these things to himself as well.

Once the battles began, the nights after were not going to be easy. 

“If you didn’t kill them, someone else would.” 

“... I suppose.”

“Just think of all the respect you earned from the other men today. Tanaka, especially. You showed them that everything they’ve been hearing weren’t just rumors, and that’s spectacular.”

Bokuto didn’t answer a handful of seconds later and Akaashi exhaled slowly. “You’ve had a long morning,” he murmured. “Rest now.”

From that moment on, as far as Karasuno and her allies were concerned, the war had begun. Tanaka placed patrol guards along the edges of their camp to watch out for attacks. As days turned into weeks, none came, but the raids continued. Akaashi stayed in their tent all the while and learned not to be bitter about it. Considering the mood Bokuto returned in each time, he knew he was missing out on nothing. 

And anyway, if he did choose to go out and partake in the raids, there would be no one to hold Bokuto close at the end of it all and whisper sweet nothings in his ears until he felt human again.


End file.
